


to re-fashion the matrix of creation

by poiesis, seabiscuit



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, F/F, Friends to Lovers, and everybody is along for the ride, science is weird, spit baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 44,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poiesis/pseuds/poiesis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seabiscuit/pseuds/seabiscuit
Summary: It's commonly said that too much wine can have perilous consequences, which Lena Luthor learns, but not in the way she'd anticipated.__Or, Lena takes a well-placed sip of wine and ends up In A Way.





	1. Chapter 1

_This is how it is with me:_  
_so strong, I want to draw the egg_  
_from your womb and nourish it in my own._  
_I want to mother your child made only_  
_of us, of me, you: no borrowed seed_  
_from any man. I want to re-fashion_  
_the matrix of creation, make a human being_  
_from the human love that passes between_  
_our bodies._

_—Love Poem to a Butch Woman, Deborah A. Miranda_

 

Lena had gotten used to game night, and somewhere along the way she began to love it. There were certain things that didn’t take any time at all to love. She loved the warm refuge of Kara’s lived-in apartment, and the way Alex would top up her wine before she even thought about having another glass. She loved Winn’s brash awe at her world history knowledge every time they played Trivial Pursuit, James’ high-fives, and, to the detriment of her heart, Kara herself. At game night Kara was pink-cheeked and quick to laugh, usually picking Lena as her partner (regardless of how awful she was at charades) and teasing, witty, but ultimately encouraging if they were competing against one another. It was good to see her happy. It had been a hard year. For all of them.

 

Lena had come to look forward to the end of the nights the most, when James and Alex would commandeer Kara’s Nintendo to face off in one final game of Mario Kart while Winn did his best to sabotage whoever had wronged him the most that evening. She and Kara would sit together, Lena more than a little wine-drunk and Kara drowsy and affectionate.

 

Some nights Kara would drop her head against Lena’s shoulder and offer commentary on what was unfolding on her TV screen in a quiet, mirthful voice meant just for her. Other nights she would sit on the floor in front of Kara under the pretense of letting Kara practice her French braid skills, only to have it turn into Kara running her fingers through the length of Lena’s hair, over and over, until both of them were nearly lulled to sleep, Lena’s head resting on one of Kara’s knees. (“How do you get your hair this soft?” she asked once, and Lena was thankful Kara couldn’t see the traitorous blush that rose high in her cheeks, “Do you have some sort of top secret ‘Conditioner’ division at L-Corp?”)

 

Without fail they would end up relaxed against each other somehow, half-asleep and warm to the bones, until one of the others had to leave and they’d separate to say their goodbyes.

 

Looking over at Vasquez, called upon at the last moment to even out their numbers when J’onn couldn’t make it, Lena remembers all too well the things that took her a while to adjust to. Kara’s penchant for adding rules to the games as they were playing them was one, now reaching over the board to move Vasquez’s yellow car ahead a few spaces in the name of affirmative action (“Women have it hard enough in regular life, we should get an advantage in the game version”). Another was the sheer volume the relatively small group could achieve, which was pretty fucking loud judging by Vasquez’s shocked expression when they all cheered for James after he spun a ten.

 

“Our turn!” Kara leans towards the board before stopping herself. “Unless, you wanna have a go this time?”

 

Lena smiles and shakes her head. “No, you go ahead.” A very small sacrifice for Kara’s pure delight over getting to spin the wheel.

 

“Hey,” Alex says, raising her eyebrows at Kara from the other couch. “Gentle, ok? I don’t wanna have to buy another one of these.” It was their fourth board. Kara’s excitement gets the better of her, occasionally.

 

She spins with a flourish, shoulders drooping when the arrow ends up on three.

 

“Damn. Oh well, I got to spin so you drive.” She leans back to give Lena some room. Reckless and a little tipsy, Lena braces her hand against the hard muscle of Kara's thigh as she reaches over, catching the way Kara adjusts her glasses in her peripheral vision.

 

She slides the car along two spaces before she gets to the “STOP: GET MARRIED” tile. She frowns.

 

“I don’t like this new ‘You have to pay $20000 if you roll for marriage because weddings are expensive’ rule. Kara can you hand me the –”

 

“Lena.” Kara says, looking up at her from where she’s now kneeling between the couch and the coffee-table, on one knee in fact. She's got one of the little pink pegs like the one already stationed in their car held between her thumb and index finger. She takes Lena’s hand, and Lena's stomach flips. They all laugh, Lena mostly out of nervousness, and Winn lets out a scandalised _ooooooh_ that rises into falsetto at the end.

 

“Lena Luthor, you make me so happy.” God, Kara’s eyes are all softness and sincerity as she looks into Lena’s, and Lena can’t even manage to smile, just takes deep breaths and hopes can’t hear how her heart-rate is steadily climbing. “You’re my best friend. And, you’re the best game night partner I’ve ever had.”

 

“Hey!” Winn interjects, scorned. “Me and you had a five-game streak before Alex banned Monopoly!”

 

“You had a _three_ -game streak because you won the last two by cheating.” Alex fires back, nearly sloshing wine on Vasquez as she gestures broadly with her glass.

 

“Guys, guys, calm down.” James says, putting a hand on Winn’s shoulder to still him. “Let’s not get into this again, it’s in the past. Kara, continue.”

 

“ _Thank_ you James.” She nods in his direction before turning back to Lena, still holding out her makeshift ring. “As I was saying, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this game of Life with.” She grins and Alex boos at her pun, Vasquez giggling beside her. “Lena, will you marry me?”

 

None of this is unexpected. Overwhelming, but not unexpected. Kara had taken to performing increasingly outlandish stunts just to make her laugh, especially now that her secret identity wasn't so secret anymore. More than once Lena had arrived at Kara's apartment to find her upside down, her knees hooked over the exposed rafters, just so that she could greet Lena with, “Hey, come hang out.”

 

“Oh, Kara.” She says with what she hopes comes across as mock sincerity, collecting herself just enough to play along with the joke. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

“You guys are gonna make me cry.” James clutches at his chest, fanning his eyes with the other hand like he’s just been crowned Miss America.

 

“Yay! Thanks Lena, I’ll be the best husband ever just you wait.” Kara fixes the second pink peg in the passenger seat of their car, and Lena swallows down her feelings with a few gulps of wine. When she looks away from Kara she catches eyes with Alex, who breaks eye contact quickly like she’d been caught staring. “Your turn, Vasquez.”

 

Alex and Vasquez, or “Team Lesbian Supremacy” as they had named themselves, win Life. And Pictionary, and charades, and, much to Winn’s dismay, Super Smash Bros, his eight-game streak shattered by Vasquez’s supreme hand-eye coordination. She fits in easily, and Lena takes some credit for that, having softened the slightly clannish group through their gradual acceptance of someone who they should have, by all accounts, hated. It had been awkward at first. Kara had practically vibrating with nervous energy each time a less-than-glowing comment was passed in Lena’s direction. But that had eased off, though, as Kara’s persistent efforts to include her had worn down the most reluctant of them (Alex and James) and the eventual reveal of Lena’s Scrabble talent had made her a sought-after teammate.  

 

Later in the night she ends up with Kara sitting to her left, close, with her arm around Lena’s shoulders. Her heart flutters each time Kara strokes her thumb over the silky green fabric of her shirt, despite the fact she should be more than used to Kara’s touch by now. It had taken no time at all to notice how effusive Kara was, how physical. Lena estimated that she had been touched more throughout the duration of her friendship with Kara than she had her whole life post-adoption. Although she still couldn’t keep her heart in check she’d improved, that’s for sure. She doesn’t tear up when Kara draws her into a sweet hug anymore, and that had been hard at the start – Kara hugged hello, and goodbye, and before she went to order food, and when Lena made a joke, and when they finalized plans, and when Lena talked at all about the pain of her childhood.

 

Kara briefly detaches from Lena’s side to cheer and give James a high-five when his Princess Peach comes first over Alex’s Bowser in Mario Kart, dodging a punch on the arm from Alex. She returns to the couch and immediately pulls Lena close again, laughing at whatever smack Vasquez was aiming at Winn. Lena wasn’t listening.

 

Progress or not, she still feels an afterburn of shame each time Kara provokes something in her body. There’s nothing in Kara’s intentions that matches up with the way her touch makes her feel. She wishes she could just feel how Kara wanted her to feel – loved, protected, like she finally has a friend she can rely on. But there is a part of her that wants more when Kara links their hands together, or swipes cappuccino foam from her upper lip in the middle of a crowded café like it’s nothing, or speaks so close to her ear that she can feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over her neck. There’s part of her that needs more.

 

“Lena? Are you listening?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said, how are you feeling tonight?” Kara angles herself so she can see Lena’s face and ends up with her hand on the nape of Lena’s neck. Lena barely suppresses a full-body shiver.

 

If she answered truthfully, it would probably go something like this:

 

“No, I’m really not okay. I’m still trying to recover from when you directed a very enthusiastic and well-sung version of Jesse McCartney’s ‘Beautiful Soul’ at me during SingStar earlier (“Well if you’re not gonna do a duet with me then I’m just gonna have to serenade you!”), and every time you touch me, or look at me in that overwhelmingly tender way, or lose your mind and fake propose to me, I feel like I’m either going to lose all control and jump you or keel over from guilt. So no, I’m not okay.”

 

She folds all of that up in a neat little box and pushes it far into the recesses of her mind, choosing to smile reassuringly at Kara instead. “Oh, sorry. I’m pretty tired, I must have zoned out. I’m feeling good though.” The concerned crease between Kara’s eyebrows loses some of its depth.

 

“If you say so.” Lena freezes for a moment under Kara’s searching gaze. “I’m glad you’re here.” She offers, nudging Lena’s side with her hip. An hour or so ago Kara had divested herself of the light blue button down she’d been wearing (“It’s too constricting to play charades in, I need full range of motion,” she had said, punctuating the last four words with an exaggerated karate move that made Lena nearly double over with laughter) leaving her in a white t-shirt that felt as soft as it looked.

 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” Lena goes to take a long, hopefully numbing drink from her wine glass only to find it awfully empty. Kara’s remains half-filled on the coffee table.

 

“Are you going to finish that?” She asks Kara, reaching for the glass.

 

“Nah I’m good, you can have it.”

 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” She says, despite the fact that Kara was the reason she needed saving to begin with.

 

“What are friends for?” Kara gives her a teasing smile, and Lena rolls her eyes. When Kara isn’t looking she fits her mouth to where Kara’s had been, drinking from where she’d left a smudge of lip-balm on the glass. When she licks her lips she tastes cinnamon under the wine, and the room lurches sideways in her vision, heartrate picking up speed until one beat blurs into another, stealing the breath from her lungs, and just as suddenly as it had all started, it stops. She sits forward and breathes deep, flexing the feeling back into her hands.

 

“Gosh, Lena, are you okay? Your h—I mean, you look pale.” Kara rubs her back soothingly, grabs her hand and squeezes.

 

“I…I’m okay now, I think I just drank that too quickly.” She figures it’s exhaustion, maybe, it had been a long week after all. Plus the alcohol, although her tolerance is usually better than this. “I think that’s a sign I should get going,” she says, and Kara frowns.

 

“C’mon Luthor, I’ll drop you at yours on my way home. I only have a sitter for Ruby until 11.”

 

She smiles gratefully at Alex and lets Kara help her to her feet and pull her into a hug.

 

“Text me when you’re home safe.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“And text me when you wake up tomorrow and let me know how you feel. No actually, call me.”

 

Lena laughs. “Will do.”

 

As soon as she’s through the door of her apartment she kicks off her shoes and texts Kara. She sets her phone on the counter and a cold glass of water and two Advil, looking out at the city lights. If it weren’t for the towering National City Bank, she would be able to see Kara’s building from her kitchen window. Once, when she had taken the morning off work because she was scheduled to arrive in New York for an investors meeting at midday, she saw Kara flying against the blue sky.

 

Her phone buzzes.

 

Kara: ok!! have a good sleep and i’ll talk to you tmrw

Kara: ❤

 

Lena sends back the same heart, quietly thanking her past self for taking that emoji-based gamble when she had first started running CatCo. Her bed is warm when she crawls under her comforter thanks to her electric blanket.

 

She’s always a bit restless after game nights, quite content to stay up as late as possible at Kara’s or finish off some work once she’s home so she can practically pass out when she gets into bed. Buying a king was a mistake, in retrospect. She was too used to falling asleep in small spaces (on one of the library couches at the Luthor mansion, her boarding school single, under her desk at college), and she felt untethered amongst her 800 thread count sheets. The electric blanket helped some, but she usually woke up curled into a ball far off to the side.

 

Sighing, she grabs her firmest pillow and positions it so it’s pressed against her back. The underside is warm, and it’s easy to imagine an arm curled protectively over her middle, blonde hair tickling against her neck.

 

She picks up her phone to take one last look at Kara’s most recent message, and falls into dreamless sleep.

\---

Days go by and Game Nights begin to fold into each other until Vasquez’s first melted into only the memory of Kara hamming it up as she sang _Beautiful Soul._ Two months after that night, Lena wakes up with an urge to vomit so acute that it trembles underneath her skin. There’s no time to think. Her body reverts to primal instinct and she rolls out of bed, feet making quiet slaps against the wood floor on her path to the bathroom.

 

In the dark, Lena stoops before the toilet and gives in to her nausea. Vomit splashes into the water, her nose runs and her hair sticks in tendrils to her forehead and nape. It feels like hours before she’s finished, intermittently relinquishing the contents of her stomach and flushing only to repeat the cycle. She hasn’t puked like this since drinking too much wine at a family Christmas party when she was 15. In fact, Lena prides herself on a healthy immune system. Face pressed against the cool porcelain, she racks her brain for the origin of her sickness. There was the salad she’d had last night, and it did have tuna on it, which seems like the most likely culprit.

 

“Siri?” She lifts her head and yells. Her throat is sore from bile. “Siri, make a note to tell Jess not to get the tuna salad from Gino’s again.”

 

“Ok, I added a note, tell Jess not to get tuna salad from Gino’s again.”

 

Lena groans and drops her head back onto the toilet seat.

 

The nausea abates over the course of the morning and she’s able to go through her routine just about as normal. Two strong cups of coffee and a yogurt later, she’s sliding into the backseat of a town car with her phone in her face and a purse on her other arm. Kara Danvers is trying to make plans for brunch on Thursday morning, her heart sings. Alex needs her to pick up Ruby from school that night. It’s doable. Lena wriggles into the leather seat and lets the minutiae of her day sweep her up and wash over the memory of her illness.

 

It lasts for about 3 hours. By 10 she’s pulling her waste basket from underneath her desk and hurling into it, catching chunks of vomit into her hair. Of all the days not to wear it up. With a trembling finger, she hits the intercom button to summon Jess.

 

“Ms. Luthor?”

 

“Jess, will you bring me a glass of water and—“ Lena pauses, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know, some Altoids? And a hair tie. Please.”

 

There’s a short, static pause on the other end fitting of the strangeness of her request. She’s still too good at her job to ask questions. Even when she sweeps in to the sight of Lena sitting with her head on her knees she manages her reaction.

 

“You feeling alright, Ms. Luthor?” Jess asks, setting a water bottle on the desk and offering a pack of spearmint gum. “It’s all I had in my desk.”

 

“It’s fine.” Lena cracks the top off the water bottle and chugs half of it in one go before tearing a piece from the gum pack and cramming it into her mouth.

 

“Um, Ms. Luthor?” Jess sounds timid. “You’ve got a little…” She gestures to the front of her face. Lena groans and begins to pick dried vomit out of her own hair, an act that’s rendered only mildly humiliating because it’s _Jess_ watching her with concern in her eyes, and she’ll certainly never tell a soul.

 

“I’m fine.” Lena provides as she drops chunks into the wastebin. “I had bad tuna last night.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” Finished with her degrading task, Lena nudges the trash can away with her foot and cradles her head in her hands. “Can you have somebody retrieve that and get me a new bag?”

 

“Right away, Ms. Luthor.”

 

“Oh and Jess?” Jess’s ears perk. “The hair tie?”

 

“Right! You can have one of mine.” Jess rolls the sleeve of her sensible Oxford top up and pulls a back elastic from her wrist, extending it out to Lena. “Good thing we have the same hair color.” She offers kindly. Lena manages a wilting smile in return.

 

“Siri?” She calls when Jess exits, slumping back into her chair. “Make a note to give Jessica Huang a raise. Please. Thank you.”

\---

Ruby is fiddling with her Gameboy on the curb of the school pick up lane when the town car pulls around. Her eyes flick up and she smiles, tucking the game into her Jansport and slinging it over one shoulder. Lena notes with a twist in her stomach that she’s not with any other kids and says good-bye to no one, just makes a beeline for the car and hops into the back seat.

 

“Hi honey, how was school?”

 

Ruby shrugs and presses her face against the window, watching the street as their driver pulls away. She’s been morose and difficult to twist out of her shell. The child psychologist said it was normal. It still stings.

 

“Anything good happen?” Lena prods. Ruby huffs and turns to her, then her face sours as she seems to take Lena in for the first time since she’s gotten into the car.

 

“Lena,” Ruby says, sounding scandalized. “Did your boobs get bigger?”

 

Lena gawks and, on instinct, closes her blazer more around her blouse (a little low-cut, admittedly. Alex told her Kara would be the one to pick Ruby up from her apartment that evening). “Ruby!” Lena hisses. “That is _impolite_.”

 

 _“_ It’s true.” Ruby scoffs. “They’re huge! Oh my God, are mine going to be like that when I’m older?”

 

The rest of the car ride and evening pass in icy silence. Chafed by her scolding, Ruby does homework seethingly in the kitchen and stomps out the door of Lena’s apartment and past Kara when she comes to retrieve her. Lena doesn’t miss the way Kara’s eyes scan down to her chest and widen a little before she nods and promises to talk to Ruby about it.

 

And, well—her bras had been a little ill-fitting lately, but Lena’s pretty sure her period is late and chalks it up to hormones. How late, she’s not sure. Being a 24 year old lesbian virgin means tracking it has never been on the top of her to-do list. Before bed she removes her shirt and underwire and inspects them in her full-length mirror. They are looking a little...full. When she weighs one in her hand, it’s tender to the touch.

 

One hour and an embarrassing amount of time on WebMD later, she decides her body is trying to jump start her period and leaves it where it is. She doesn’t need any other stress added to an already strange day.

\---

When she wakes up on Thursday too sick to get brunch with Kara, Lena knows something is wrong.

 

Jess: maybe it’s the flu? :(

Jess: should I get you a car to take to urgent care

Lena: no, it’s fine. I’m just going to take the day to rehydrate.

 

Kara calls her and offers to bring chicken soup. Lena has to fight against her baser instincts to play the illness up just for a shot at Kara’s attention. In the end she spends the day alone, on her couch, satisfying a craving for fries and red wine. The food settles her stomach but not her mind. She considers calling a doctor but thinks better of it. The process of finding a physician in the city that she trusts would take long enough that it would probably outlast the course of her illness.

 

Lena gets nauseated again at 10 in the evening and feels the sting of tears in her eyes when she vomits. Stumbling out into the kitchen, she pulls open the freezer door with the force of her frustration and almost doesn’t notice when it comes off in her hand.

 

Stunned, she blinks into the misty confines of her freezer and then blinks back to the stainless steel door locked in her fist. The first thing she thinks to do is set it gingerly on the floor. The next is to brace herself against her granite countertop while she considers her subsequent step—probably unplug the fridge, because the last thing she needs is for her freezer to replace her AC unit—but this too is foiled when a swathe of granite breaks apart under the pressure of her hand.

 

Lena sets the granite next to the freezer door, and goes to call Alex.

 

She bites her nails while she waits for her to pick up. When it doesn’t happen on the first call, she hits redial and exhales in relief when Alex’s tinny, agitated voice materializes.

 

“This better be good.” She says. “I finally got Ruby into bed and Police Academy just started.” Lena can hear the opening bars of the L Word theme song in the background.

 

“I think something’s wrong.” Lena explains everything, the freezer door, the granite. The strange sickness. Alex doesn’t talk, but she can hear her rustling around on the other end of the phone. “I just—I didn’t know who else to call.”

 

“No, you’re fine.” Alex sighs. “I can take you down to the DEO and run some tests. But full disclosure, I’ve already had my two glasses of ‘Ruby’s asleep’ wine and because I’m a mom now, that means I’m a little drunk.”

 

“I’ll pick you up from your apartment in 10.”

\---

Nothing ratchets up Lena’s anxiety quite as much as watching the needle break as Alex tries to draw her blood. It’s this sense of disquiet that causes the regrettable phrase “Oh my God, do you think it’s alien cancer?” To pass her lips.

 

Alex gives her a well-deserved eyebrow raise and removes the tourniquet with a clean snap. As she scoots away on her little roller stool to retrieve another pack of needles, Lena picks at the paper sheet covering the exam bed. Just like at a regular doctor’s office. The uniformity of it is comforting.

 

“Kryptonite needles, like the kind we use on Kara.” Alex explains as she re-assembles her workstation, throwing down a clean chuck and placing her cottons, needles, and an open bandaid for easy access. Even admittedly tipsy, Alex works quickly and methodically, re-tying the blue rubber around Lena’s arm and prodding her brachia for a vein. Lena vocalizes as much.

 

“We used to practice on each other ripped on adderall in med school.” Alex explains, holding Lena’s skin taut and sliding the needle in. It breaks her skin smoothly and with bite. There’s a flash of red at the head of the needle. “Sweet, confusing success.”

 

“No kidding.” Lena murmurs, watching Alex fill vial after vial with blood. “You don’t think this is like—“

 

“No.” Alex shakes her head. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not that.” Finished, she slides the needle out and places a cotton and bandaid over it. Alex strikes Lena as being calm, given the circumstances. She wonders if it’s to protect her.

 

“What tests are you going to run?”

 

“All of them.” Alex says, wheeling away to label and place the vials of blood in the correct stands. “You said you were having stomach problems too, right?”

 

“I’ve been puking every morning. And Ruby says my boobs are enormous.”

 

“Sure you’re not pregnant?”

 

Lena snorts. “Impossible.”

 

“Well.” Alex rubs her forehead, thinking. “I can run an ultrasound. See if there’s anything going on in your abdomen. It’ll give us something to do while we wait for the tests.”

 

Lena is grateful for Alex and her blend of pragmatism and empathy. She watches her fumble with the tangled wires of the ultrasound machine (“Who the _shit_ put this away? I bet it was the stupid intern, holy fuck—”) and finally assemble it next to Lena’s prostrate body. She warms the jelly between her thighs while waiting for the machine to hum to life and calibrating it.

 

Lena undoes the snap of her jeans and rolls them down and rucks her shirt up under her breasts, pushing at the anxiety that raises like bile. Alex glances at her belly and her face twitches into something that could be a smile. “You have an outie.” Lena glances at her belly button. “The jelly is going to be a little cold.”

 

Alex has the screen angled away from Lena, regarding it with sleepy eyes as she applies the lubricant and presses the wand to skin. In a moment of impenetrable silence, Alex’s expression goes from one of disinterest to squinting at the machine in front of her. She looks at Lena, back at the screen, then to Lena again.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you positive that there’s no way you could be—uh, pregnant?”

 

Alarmed, Lena sits up on her elbows. “I’ve gotten close to having sex once, I cried and she faked an emergency from her dentist.”

 

“Woof. Okay. Well.” Alex turns a dial on the side of the machine, increasing the volume. The room is filled with a soft, rhythmic _wub-wub-wub_. "Maybe it’s alien cancer?”

 

With one hand Lena grabs the screen and jerks it toward her. What she sees is a garbled mess of black and white and a small peanut looking object in the center. “I’m going to pass out. Is this a joke?”

 

“Yes, suddenly I love elaborate and life-altering pranks.” Alex hits a button that causes a screenshot to print, removing the wand from Lena’s stomach and ripping it off the printer. “I need to get a second opinion on this and I’m going to put a double rush order on those tests. I think it’s better if you slept here tonight.” Alex starts to leave the room but slaps her forehead and turns back to Lena. “Fuck. Can you call Kara and tell her she needs to be there when Ruby wakes up in,” She glances at her watch. “2 hours?”

 

“Can I tell her—“

 

“Can you wait to explain until she’s here in person?”

 

Lena nods. It’s probably for the best.

\---

When Kara arrives at the DEO Lena’s sipping from a cup of flat lemonade and flipping through an old issue of _American Handgunner_ , her feet resting on an upturned bucket that Alex had placed unceremoniously in front of her before she left for the lab. Seeing Kara appear in the doorway, standing amongst the barren utility of the DEO breakroom dressed for work in her dove grey crewneck sweater and green chinos, is like seeing a tree spring up in the middle of a polluted city street. The relief that Lena feels is so palpable she’s surprised it isn’t glowing out of her.

 

“I thought it was food poisoning at first, I’ve been sick a lot, off and on.” Kara nods, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of the peanut butter sandwich she produced from her messenger bag. “But then earlier tonight I kind of . . . tore the door of my refrigerator off its hinges accidentally?” Kara stops chewing. “And . . . cracked my granite countertop just by grabbing it?”

 

“What?!” Kara’s eyes are practically bugging out of her head, eyebrows shot all the way up.

 

“I know.” Lena says, rubbing at her temples, a serious headache brewing underneath. “And Alex thinks I . . . she did a sonogram and she thinks . . .”

 

“Okay,” Alex strides into the room, clipboard in hand. “Hey Kar. Did you fill her in, Lena?”

 

“Uh, nearly. Everything but the, the uh . . . the big thing.”

 

“What big thing? Bigger than you getting crazy strong overnight?

 

“Bigger than that.” Lena drops her head forward and takes deep breaths, hoping to calm her stomach.

 

“Lena’s pregnant.”

 

“Lena’s _what_?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Pregnant, Kara. And yes I’m sure, we ran the tests twice. Take a look for yourself, if you want.” It’s there on the page, plain as day. Kara studies it silently, and it occurs to Lena, not for the first time since discovering that her best friend and the alien who saved her life on multiple occasions, that she must have been playing dumb each time she asked Lena to explain anions or string theory or quantum entanglement. To keep her cover, probably. It couldn’t be the other thing.

 

“That’s . . . Lena I didn’t even know you were interested in . . . I mean, congratulations that’s . . .”

 

“But that’s just the thing, I’m not. I mean, I haven’t…I don’t know who the father is, and there aren’t any possible candidates. At all. So we either need to call the Vatican, or—”

 

“That’s what we need to figure out.” Alex cuts in, taking back the clipboard from Kara who had been staring at it, agape. “Something else showed up on the test. Something that could explain the whole—” She mimes Lena opening her fridge only for the door to fall off.

  
“And?” Lena probes, antsy as Alex flips a few pages over.

 

“We found abnormal genetic material in your bloodstream.” Lena goes cold. “Kryptonian genetic material, to be exact.”

 

Kara jolts beside her. “What?”

 

“I’ve already got a couple of agents going through the security camera footage from your building from the past few months, and I have Winn checking for any evidence that it’s been tampered with. Your tox screen came up clean so that rules out rohypnol or GHB, but if these people had access to Kryptonian DNA they’re probably well-equipped, tech-wise, so we don’t know what they could’ve . . .”

 

Alex’s voice grows into a drone, and Lena’s nausea becomes so intense she sees spots before she grabs the bucket and vomits for the seventh time in twenty-four hours. She feels someone’s hand on her back, Kara’s. When she raises her head Alex is offering her a square of paper towel and a half finished bottle of water she’d given her earlier.

 

“Thanks.” Her voice is hoarse. Alex fixes her with a look filled with so much sympathy that Lena can’t bear it, but she can’t look at Kara right now, either, so she stares at a fissure in one of the grey linoleum tiles under her feet.

 

“We’re going to find whoever did this, Lena.” Alex starts. “And we’re going to bring them to j—”

 

“I think I have a theory.” Kara pipes up in a small voice. She takes off her glasses, runs her hand over her face and pauses, like she’s searching for the words.

 

“Arranged marriages were the norm on Krypton, especially for the, uh, nobility.” She makes a vague gesture to herself. “A supercomputer picked our matches for us, or approved relationships if they happened organically.”

 

“Kara, is this –”

 

“Alex this is going somewhere, I promise.” Kara says firmly, and Alex puts her hands up in surrender and shrugs a little at Lena. There’s something in Kara’s serious tone that chills Lena to the bone.

 

“The matches were based on genetic compatibility. For a lot of us there weren’t any feelings involved. Especially for the higher ups. A lot of them were too busy to even . . . you know.”

 

“Too busy to what, Kara?” Alex asks, evidently having plenty of practice at getting Kara to cut to the chase.

 

“Too busy to have sex.” Kara takes a breath. “A few decades before Krypton died there was a breakthrough, a sort of…genetic modification. It was optional for Kryptonians at the time, but compulsory for every baby born into the major Houses after that. Including me.”

 

“What did it do?” Lena asks, and Kara turns to her, an indecipherable look on her face.

 

“It allowed matches to conceive just with an exchange of bodily fluids. Any bodily fluids. Like, through a kiss, even. It made things more efficient.”

 

“And you think—”

 

“How long ago was Vasquez’s first game night?”

 

“About two months ago.”

 

“Oh my god.” Alex says, aghast.

  
“Do you remember finishing off my wine?” Kara asks, searching Lena’s eyes. Her expression reminds her of the first time they spoke on the couch in her office, when she had told her about Lex. Far away and imploring all at once.

  
Lena can’t speak. She nods, instead, and then the words come back. “Do you think that could even…is it even possible? On Earth? And with . . .”

  
“I don’t know.” Kara smiles softly at her, fear and something close to awe playing behind her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  
“Oh my god.” Alex says, again. “Oh my _god_. I’m doing a paternity test, now. Come with me, both of you.”

  
Lena finds herself back on the crinkly paper of the exam bed, mind racing while Alex rifles around in the cabinets for a Kryptonite needle thick enough to extract amniotic fluid.

  
“Found it!” Alex produces a needle of comically large proportions as Kara walks in from the other examination room, holding a little ball of cotton wool to the inside of her elbow.

  
“Hi.” Kara says, sitting next to her on the exam bed.

  
“Hi.” She watches Kara dab at her arm with the cotton wool until the needle mark does a vanishing act. Small magic, right in front of her eyes.

  
“Kara, get down. You can sit on this.” Alex pushes another wheeled stool in her direction, and Kara scoots close by Lena’s side as she lies back, taking her hand once she’d exposed her stomach.

  
Alex works briskly for someone who hadn’t slept all night. She paints a stripe of yellow antiseptic over the slight curve of Lena’s stomach and covers the head of the ultrasound wand with the same before hooking it back into the side of the machine. Lena’s distantly reminded of the thing that holds the blow dryers at her ludicrously expensive salon. She takes a shuddery breath.

  
“You doing okay?” Kara asks, looking up to study Lena’s expression.

  
“I think so. I’m a bit intimidated by that needle.” She’s eyeing it warily from where Alex has it laid out with the other gear – surgical cloth, a couple of vials, and something that looks awfully similar to a coffee plunger.

  
Kara shakes her head and smiles. “You’re tough, you’ve got this. Just squeeze my hand when it hurts.”

 

“Kara, can you come around here and hold this in place for me.”

  
“Oh, uh, sure.” Kara gets up and stands at the other side of the bed, tripping over something on her way because she’s riveted to the amorphous shapes on the monitor that could be her child ( _their child_ , Lena reminds herself). She takes over Alex’s firm grip on the ultrasound wand.

 

“Keep it steady.” Alex says, and Kara nods, reaching her other hand out to Lena who takes it gratefully.

  
Alex guides the needle into the soft flesh of her stomach, deep, and Lena lets out an artistic combination of curse words with a few major deities thrown in for good measure. Alex just laughs and hooks up the coffee plunger thing to the end of the needle, drawing out a vial of clear fluid with the slightest yellow tint. Kara watches the monitor the whole time.

  
“Okay, you’re all done. Bed rest for the next 24 hours, I’ll have someone take you to a comfier room when it’s ready for you. I’ll rush this so we can start planning our next move straight away. You did good, Lena.” Alex touches her shoulder on the way out of the room, leaving her and Kara alone.

  
“Jeez, you are strong.” Kara flexes her hand when Lena lets go to clean herself up, wincing. “Do you want a snack or something? I can get you anything you want from the break room, and,” Kara feels around in the pocket of her chinos and produces a handful of coins, “I’ve got some quarters for vending machine.”

  
“I’m not really hungry, thanks though. You can go if you want, I’ll be fine here.”

  
“No, I,” Kara sits beside her on the bed again, the length of her thigh touching Lena’s. “I’m gonna stay here with you. I guess all we can do is wait.”

 

There’s a beat, before Kara speaks again in a fragile voice thick with the promise of tears. “I’m so sorry, Lena. I know it was an accident but I’m sorry, and I don’t know how to make it better. You didn’t ask for this, and—”

 

“Kara.” Lena touches Kara’s forearm gently, over the fine wool of her sleeve. “It’s gonna be okay.” She doesn’t fully believe that yet, but continues all the same. “Let’s just wait until we know for sure.”

 

Lena offers her a smile and Kara nods, covers Lena’s hand on her forearm with her own. Kara can’t touch the ground from her seat on the exam bed, and she kicks her legs slowly in the air. Kara is always moving—tapping, bouncing, stretching, wiggling—full of cataclysmic potential energy that made true stillness near impossible. Lena nudges Kara’s foot with hers each time it swings past, and Kara ducks her head and huffs out a small laugh.

 

Lena wishes that she could freeze time here, just live in a little suspended bubble with Kara in this comfortable silence, warmed from the inside out by being beside her. Whatever these test results show will change things irrevocably, and she wants more time in the before of it all. She hopes, for Kara, that the baby is Kryptonian. And she knows that if it is, regardless of parentage, it will be Kara’s all the same. She’ll make it that way. She’ll find a way to right it in her body. She’ll will it to be hers.

\---

She gets Siri to call Jess and asks her to bring over her laptop. She nearly asks for her book, too, but then she remembers (from her previous read-throughs) that the ending involved the reanimated corpse of a child, so she decides against it.

 

When Alex comes into the room, face as inscrutable as always, she says nothing. Instead, she places two sheets of plastic on the tray table lying across her hospital bed, moves them so they’re flush with each other. In the upper left corner, the words “LUTHOR FETUS” and “KARA DANVERS” overlap. Their DNA sequences run down the page like perforated strokes of black calligraphy ink, and there are haphazard red circles around each point of similarity. Lena counts five before skipping to the eighteenth marker, where beside it someone has scrawled “ _obligate paternal allele_ ”. It’s circled too.

 

Alex only tries to stop her once when she gets out of bed and leaves the room, walking down the hall until she sees daylight—a balcony. It’s mercifully empty and she takes gulps of fresh air, sitting down on a bench with cigarette butts scattered at her feet. She doesn’t realise Kara had followed her until she sits down beside her.

 

“I want you to know that you have the final say over all of this.” Kara starts, weight in her voice. “It’s your body, and your life, and I won’t resent you if you don’t want to go through with it. I promise.”

 

Lena’s learnt that Kara keeps her promises, all of them, but she hadn’t even considered the possibility of ending the pregnancy since Alex had mentioned the traces of Kryptonian in her bloodstream. She goes to tell Kara as much but Kara continues. “Even . . . even if you want to have the baby but you don’t want to raise it, I can take care of him. You can be involved in whatever way you want, and Alex can help me out, and Eliza.”

 

Suddenly Kara’s in front of her, half-kneeling half-crouching on the dirty ground, braceleting Lena’s wrists with her fingers and turning them so her palms face upward. “But _Lena_ , I . . . I think we can _do_ this. You and I, together. I _know_ we can do this. I think . . . I think we could give this baby a chance at the things we missed out on growing up. There’s no one better for this job than us. I don’t know if I can explain it, but I have this _feeling_. I want to do this with you.”

 

Lena’s breath is stolen from her, and Kara’s thumbs soothe over each pulse point in tandem like she was trying to transmit some of that  _feeling_ directly into Lena’s veins. James had told her once that he and Kara argued when she was jailed, that Kara had argued with everyone, striking out on her own away from her friends and family. Kara had fought for her innocence, the innocence of a woman she barely knew despite irrefutable evidence to the contrary, based on something she saw in her eyes. If Earth’s yellow sun can enhance Kara’s physical senses to godlike heights, then it would follow her intuition would be blessed with the same gift. A _feeling_.

 

“It wouldn’t matter if we weren’t like regular families. We could move in together, like, now, if you want, so you don’t have to stay at the DEO in case something goes wrong. I could take care of you. I could take care of all of us.” Kara sits back. “But I know this is really overwhelming and I’m not helping that right now, so I’ll let you be.”

 

Just as she starts to stand Lena grabs her around the wrist. She looks Kara in the eye as she guides her to rest her hand on her stomach, presses against it, holds it there. The realisation hits Lena square in the chest—that Kara could be her family, more than she already is, even if it isn’t in the way she was hoping for at first. Something in Lena’s cells had sung out to Kara’s, had shifted and changed in both of them so they could fit together, and she can feel it in the heat of Kara’s palm.

 

“Does this mean you--?” Lena nods, and Kara blinks, tears spilling over onto her cheeks.

 

“I want to do this with you too. I don’t know how, but I want to try. With you.” The words feel right as she says them, everything else falling to the wayside.

 

“Lena, oh my god.” Kara pauses for something between a laugh and a sob, breaking out into the brightest grin Lena’s ever seen on her. “Oh my god . . . Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure, Kara. I promise. I’m sure.”

 

Kara surges forward and hugs her, almost desperately, the force of it nearly knocking her off balance. Lena just holds her tight, legs bracketing Kara’s middle, and Lena cries freely into Kara’s shoulder as all the emotion she’d been holding in for the past night crests when she feels Kara sobbing against her. They pull away after a long, cathartic moment and wipe at their faces a little self-consciously, sniffing and laughing, a little giddy. Kara’s hands return to Lena’s belly, holding the barely-changed swell of her stomach reverently through the well-worn sweater Alex had leant her earlier.

 

“Hey little guy.” She says softly, and Lena tries her hardest not to melt. Of all the times she’d imagined Kara on her knees between her legs, this possibility had never entered her mind. “Or girl. Or, I don’t think you’re either one of those yet?” She looks up at Lena questioningly, and Lena shrugs at her. Surreal doesn’t even begin to cover it. “Nah, I think you’re too little for that still.”

 

“Me and your mom should download that app that shows you what piece of fruit you are as you grow,” Kara directs at her stomach, and fresh tears spring to her eyes at the word _mom_. Kara beams up at her and wipes away a tear that had run down to Lena’s jaw. “I couldn’t really see how big you’d be on the monitor. Between you and me,” she drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I couldn’t actually figure out which blob was you.”

 

Lena laughs, and wants to reach out and tuck a loose strand of Kara’s hair behind her ear, brush her fingers against her face. She thinks Kara would let her, in this moment. It wouldn’t be a big deal all things considered. But she doesn’t want to know what it feels like. It would make denying it to herself harder in the future. So she settles for resting her hand on Kara’s shoulder instead and accepts the achingly sweet smile she gets in response, heart full to the brim.

\---

She and Kara explain it, together, more times than either of them can count. When they tell Winn and James the former lapses into referring to her and Kara as “Baby Mama” and “Baby Daddy” as soon as he stops crying, and the latter folds both of them into a fierce hug and quietly calls dibs on godparent.

 

“Whoa, this means your DNA must have superstrength too.” She overhears Winn say to Kara as they leave the bar. “I mean, I’ve heard jokes about Irish women getting pregnant from just a look, but _spi_ —” The rest is muffled by Kara’s hand.

 

J’onn knows already, caught up in the hellish night Lena had spent in his offices, but congratulates them with a father’s pride all the same, pressing his forehead to each of them in turn as is Martian custom. Kara flies to Midvale to tell Eliza, Facetiming Lena from her childhood bedroom.

 

“This is where we’ve had all our big talks,” Kara explains, holding a stuffed monkey to her chest. She turns her phone landscape so Eliza can get into frame.

 

“Thank you, Lena.” Eliza says, and Lena tries not to tear up. Her hormones were doing a total number on her emotions, tear ducts on more of a hare trigger than usual. “I can’t wait to meet my first grandchild. Thank you.”

 

Clark visits for the weekend, and although he calls her “Miss Luthor” a few times on the first day, he comes around eventually. They spend most of the weekend at the DEO, Winn fawning over Superman and Alex running tests on the three of them under the guise of routine to begin trying to replicate whatever inspired Lena’s pregnancy for Clark and Lois. Clark and Kara disappear into one of the sub-basements for a while on the second day, and when she asks Alex about what’s down there, she learns about Alura.

 

Lena only has one person to tell. She lets Jess rattle through her to-do list for the day, handing her schedules and meeting minutes. Her assistant doesn’t look up from her iPad more than once. When she’s finished, she offers a “Anything else, Ms. Luthor?”. Lena takes this as her chance.

 

“Yes.” Jess lifts her eyebrows and poises her finger to type a note. “I’m pregnant. With Kara Danvers’s baby.”

 

“Oh.” Jess says. She looks from her iPad to Lena to her iPad again, finger still hovering over the touch screen. “How should I phrase that in the minutes?”

 

“Sit down, Jess.” Jess does. She settles the tablet in her lap and looks to Lena like she’s searching for any kind of guidance on how to react. “It’s fine. I’m fine. If I try to take maternity leave before the baby is crowning it’s because Kara is holding me captive in our home.”

 

Jess nods and taps her finger against the screen of her tablet lighting quick. Lena’s brow furrows. “What are you writing?”

 

“New instructions.” Jess explains, not looking up. “Your morning coffee should now be decaf tea—

 

“Surely a cup of half-caf a day won’t kill it.”

 

“And I’m scheduling you for a biweekly prenatal massage.”

 

“That, I won’t argue with.”

 

“How do you feel about Lamaze?”

 

Before she leaves, new schedule in hand, Jess clears her throat and asks for a copy of the ultrasound in a timid voice. It’s a small detail, but meaningful.

 

All of them, bar none, show some sort of shock when they broach the whole “perfect genetic match” thing. The Luthor/Super irony isn’t lost on her, and thinking about Lillian finding out that _Superman’s cousin had knocked her up_ makes her laugh out loud. The scientist in her can see how it’s at least plausible—she is the smartest Luthor, after all, so she matches or at least comes close to matching Kara intellectually. She’s been healthy all her life (physically, anyway, and current problems notwithstanding), if not slightly lacking in the fitness department, although Kara’s DNA would more than make up for that based on the borderline obscene way she was built.

 

The most mystifying thing, Kryptonian biology and genetic compatibility aside, was that she of all people had been singled out by Kara’s very cells when Kara being in her life at all was still a source of daily awe from her. Yes, her unorthodox pregnancy made objective sense. But when she lets the dam holding her thoughts break she’s washed in the idea that Kara, who had changed everything by not just allowing but _inviting_ Lena into her world and encouraging her to partake of all the love held within it, had through some fluke of nature sparked new life in her. Sure, she could explain it in pure fact. She could read it, plain as day, from a piece of paper by examining the alleles shared between Kara and the baby growing inside her. But no matter what she couldn’t help hearing, on an unending loop in her mind, a voice saying “ _miracle, miracle_ ”.

\---

Lena was foolish to think that house shopping with Kara would be an easy endeavor. Her friend’s limitless sense of sentimentality drives their search from downtown apartments (“A baby needs room to grow, Lena!”) to the tangled maze of the hills. Somehow, in her Kara way, she manages to sweep Lena up in the drama of it all. The idea that it might take them, with their limitless budget, weeks to find the perfect house seems absurd. But it’s her life.

 

They bicker good naturedly about space and what could constitute a nursery, how modern the kitchen should be, and what an appropriate commute looks like. It stops being genuine after a day or two and Lena comes to plainly revel in the sensation of bantering with Kara. She likes the way she asks her if she needs to sit down every 30 seconds, even if she’s not showing yet. She likes her hand pressed into the small of her back as they walk through doorways.

 

Along for the ride is their game real estate agent Nance, who sticks around even after Kara’s well-intentioned but harrying explanation of their circumstances (“We’re best friends and we’re having a baby together. I’m the father. Does make us technically life partners?”). Nance is responsible for their Wednesday afternoon showing of a house so far into the hills they’re almost in coyote territory. Kara frets on the drive there about the probability of a coyote running away with the baby, punctuated by a lengthy discussion about the _dingos ate my baby_ lady, which is still running strong when they meet her in the driveway of the house.

 

It’s shrouded in greenery and steep, but there’s a certain charm to it that Lena feels before they even step into the house. Kara keeps a hand on her elbow as they enter through the mud room door and into a bright, white tiled kitchen. Nance is ratting on about something but Lena doesn’t notice, too fixated on Kara’s wide eyes as she stares out the window over the kitchen sink. She can practically see a tiny, blonde toddler being chased through the half-wooded backyard in Kara’s irises.

 

“The owners are very motivated to sell.” Nance narrates as she leads them through the rest of the house. “It’s 4 bedroom, just like you wanted, with a master. And they already have a room set up as a nursery.” They ascend the staircase and Nance pushes open a door in the middle of the hallway, stepping aside to allow Kara and Lena in.

 

Lena has had her share of seemingly innocuous moments in her life that have turned out to be extraordinary meaningful, but stepping into the afternoon light of that nursery may top the list. Kara grabs her hand immediately, as if looking for a tether. Behind them, Nance says something that might be “I’ll leave you girls to it.” And bows out.

 

It’s not quite the content of the room, but the promise of it. The crib is a tangible thing, the rocking chair in a corner that Kara might somebody sit in and rock their baby to sleep. All at once the baby is real. Not just a vibration on an ultrasound or Lena’s anxiety, but a bundle of cells that she and Kara made out of saliva and pure chance. And the baby isn’t just her’s, but Kara’s, bearing half of her genetic makeup, her dominant and nondominant traits. The blonde hair would be nondominant, Lena supposes, but she finds herself wishing in a way that the baby will be blonde.

 

Lena knows better than anybody that the universe is vast and absurd. She used to call her life a cosmic joke, back when she had a better sense of humor about it. This might be the punchline. She’s doing her best to embrace it. Lena holds on tight to her best friend’s hand and watches the moment of peace flicker away in front of their faces, quick and indescribable as a camera flare.

___

“Lena, we are _not_ unpacking all of this tonight. Come sit with me.”

 

“I just need to find our dishes!” Lena calls from the kitchen. At this point they’d unpacked their stepping stool, which Lena uses to rummage in their upper cupboards for whatever plates or bowls made their way out. Kara seems to err more towards madness than method. “Are we going to eat pizza without plates like Neanderthals?”

 

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” Lena rolls her eyes and keeps digging, sleeves of her long-sleeved t shirt rolled up around her elbows. “Lena, if you don’t come out here right now, you know what I’m going to do…”

 

“Kara, don’t.” But it’s too late. The sounds of a plucky guitar and piccolo filter in from the living room, then Kara is craning her head around the kitchen entrance, miming a small flute. Lena turns, still on the stool, and puts her head in her hands to hide her pleasured blush and praying that Kara isn’t listening too hard for her heartbeat. “Kara I’m serious!”

 

“ _Having my baby,”_ Paul Anka sings by way of Kara Danvers holding an invisible microphone under her mouth. She walks towards Lena with exaggerated swagger. “ _What a lovely way of saying how much you love me.”_ Kara hoists Lena off the stool and embraces her, arms about her waist, giving her a heart-stopping twirl. The giggle that bubbles up is nothing but organic, springing from a place of delight. Kara sets her back on her feet before beginning to move their bodies in a silly sway.

 

Lena only puts up a token resistance before giving in—how is she supposed to deny Kara anything, ever, and especially now? Now that they’re bound forever into the vast reaches of time and space, by a chance combination of their DNA. She reaches up and wraps her arms around Kara’s neck and buries her head against her shoulder. Kara reacts by slowing their movements and tightening her grip against Lena’s waist until they’re flush together.

 

“These lyrics make me so uncomfortable. Why were men in the 70s so obsessed with getting their girlfriends pregnant?”

 

“Shh.” Kara whispers. “Don’t ruin it.”

 

Lena is trying her best. She’s working on defining what _ruining it_ looks like, exactly. It might be pressing a kiss to the skin of Kara’s neck and folding to her natural instinct to make things complicated. It might be falling asleep next to Kara on the couch instead of her new orthopedic mattress. It’s anything that would invite Kara’s almost certain rejection and the loss of their friendship. She opts for shutting her mouth and continuing on the path of least resistance. It’s a lucky coincidence that it happens to be her held in Kara’s arms.

 

Stars hang heavy in the sky and watch over the Big Bang of their new life. Maybe it’s the new structure of her DNA, but Lena could swear she can feel their eyes. They stand in their half formed kitchen, owls chirping, and Paul Anka crooning, seamed together as if cut from the same piece of cloth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all we wanna thank everyone who's read and responded to chapter 1 - we're overwhelmed and totally delighted by how many of you guys loved this fic and we've had a lot of fun seeing what you think! secondly, we noticed a lot of comments about how surprised you were to find that the first chapter was sweet/soft despite having such a bizarre concept. while it's still gonna be soft (of course it is with these two), your initial opinion may change after this chapter...

Lena Luthor had hated boarding school. She hated being so far away from Lex. She hated the distinct sense that she was somehow older than her classmates even though she was their age. She hated sharing a room most of all, far more used to the sprawling grounds of the Luthor mansion where she could comfortably avoid seeing another soul for days. Lena went from passing her days largely unobserved to being under constant scrutiny.

 

At boarding school each student lived in a suite shared between three, and in most cases, suitemates would become thick as thieves. But Lena was weird—studious and quiet, foraying briefly into a goth phase during which she gained six extra piercings on each earlobe and a small binder full of uniform infractions—so the girls she roomed with didn’t take to her. And Lena wouldn’t have cared less, only they didn’t keep it to themselves. They made it their business to make that fact known to Lena vocally and often. They hid her books. They “accidentally” snapped her CDs. They cut the bristles off her toothbrush on a monthly basis. And perhaps worst of all, they snuck in boys from their brother school into bed and weren’t subtle about what was going on under the covers, mere feet from where Lena was trying to sleep.

 

She sped through her time there as fast as possible, friendless and always the youngest in her classes. As soon as she graduated she vowed to claw back every shred of privacy taken from her during boarding school. Lena Luthor chose to be alone. Lena Luthor liked living alone. Lena Luthor had never been content with anything but seclusion. That is, until she moved in with Kara Danvers.

 

Before she’d gotten pregnant a two-hour brunch with Kara would sustain her for days after, and going long stretches without seeing Kara would make her moods plummet. Now, with Kara’s undivided attention in the morning before work and at night, and all throughout the weekend, Lena was thriving. She was smiling so much that the muscles of her face felt slightly tense at the end of the day. Kara would fix them some snacks when they both got home from work, sitting on the kitchen counter next to the sink while Lena told her “all about her day, from start to finish, no details left out” (as per Kara’s instructions) and tried not to be too charmed by Kara’s unconventional use of furniture. They were steadily working their way _The Killing_ and _The Good Place_ , chasing an episode of the moody crime drama each night with the significantly lighter comedy.

 

“It’s foolproof.” Kara told her, stretched out on the plush linen couch in their living room, legs lying across Lena’s lap. “You watch the happy thing last, and that way you don’t have nightmares. _And_ you don’t go to bed sad.” She couldn’t argue with that. The only nights she was going to bed sad lately were on those where Kara got called out to deal with some trouble in the city, not returning until some hours after Lena’s Alex-assigned bedtime. On those nights she could’ve easily killed someone for a glass of red wine or a scotch (actually, she felt that way every night, but the feeling was especially intense if Kara wasn’t there). Apart from that, Lena would go to bed full of a happiness so big that it felt almost foreign to her, much like the brand new Kryptonian who had taken up residence in her body.

 

To say Kara was an attentive future-co-parent would be a massive understatement. She filled the storage of her phone to capacity with every pregnancy-related app in existence. She persuaded Jess during a visit to L-Corp to link her to Lena’s calendar so she could keep track of her various appointments (and, Lena suspected, secretly check on Lena’s workload—especially given that most of those appointments were with Alex). And she cooked, constantly.

 

Lena offered to share cooking duties, but Kara insisted on making nearly every meal for her. Kara cooked a _lot_ , she had to, reaching a daily calorie consumption that easily stretched into quintuple figures. Lena’s tastes were expanding, away from the light salads that had sustained her pre-pregnancy and more towards the culinary stylings of Kara Danvers, the former now making her stomach churn much to her dismay. She found herself craving things like bacon, and ice cream. But her strongest craving was for something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was definitely something heavy on carbs, but croissants didn’t do the trick, nor did bagels with cream cheese, or apple cinnamon muffins Kara picked up from Noonan’s. It baffled Kara and frustrated the hell out of Lena, remaining a mystery that refused to be solved until one weekend Kara made her something called a ‘grizzly bear sandwich’ for lunch, peanut butter and honey on white bread cut into four neat squares.

 

“Kara, this is it.” Lena had told her around a mouthful of bread, and Kara celebrated by making another sandwich for each of them, and then another that they split, all the while talking to the baby about how cool it was that it had inherited Kara’s favourite food, turning it into Lena’s favourite in the process.

 

As well as cooking and trying her best to cater to her every whim, Kara was constantly asking for updates on how she was feeling, both via text and in person.

 

Kara: how are you? and how is the little one?

 

Sometimes the questions annoyed her if her hormones were making her moods swing to stormy waters, but she kept her informed of any changes with swiftness and accuracy no matter what. She made exceptions for the changes that were too embarrassing to tell Kara, like how a ten-second ad for laundry powder played before a pre-natal yoga video on YouTube had made her burst into tears, and how if she didn’t spend some quality time with her detachable showerhead at least once a day she felt like she could power National City with the amount of sexual energy that simmered in her body.

 

It’s only natural, then, that when she loses a battle between the button of her favourite pair of work pants and her growing stomach for the first time, Kara finds out right away. They fit her on Friday, a little snug but bearable, but come Monday she can’t manage to do them up no matter how much she sucks in her breath. She stares at her reflection for a long moment in the half-darkness of her walk-in closet, defeated and dangerously close to being late for work but quietly thrilled at the uncanniness of it all. There’s a _person_ in there, or the potential for one.

 

“Lena?” She hears Kara’s call from the bedroom. “Where are you?”

 

“I’m in here.” She calls out, skimming her fingers down the curve of her stomach, mesmerised by the sight of it in the floor-length mirror.

 

“I know you have to leave soon but I made you some tea, it’s this pre-natal blend that—oh gosh, sorry. I’ll just be out here." Kara covers her eyes and goes to hurry out of the room at the sight of Lena, shirt rucked up and pants undone, nearly running into the doorframe and spilling the mug of steaming tea in the process.

 

“No wait Kara, look. Come here.” She turns to the side and holds her hands against her stomach, framing the nascent bump. It’s the first time she notices she’s really showing (around her stomach anyway, her boobs were a different situation altogether), and she sees a flicker of wonder in Kara’s eyes that she’d grown accustomed to seeing in the past month.

 

“Wow.” Kara sets the mug down on a shelf and crouches in front of her. “You’re getting big, little stranger.” She looks up at Lena, smiling broadly. “Can I?” Lena nods, steeling herself against the warm slide of Kara’s hands over her bare skin. If she’d thought she was sensitive to Kara’s touch before, it was nothing compared to now.

 

“ _Cute Fruit_ said you’re the size of a lemon now, baby. Next week you’ll be an apple, and after that you’ll start growing even faster. Looks like me and your mom should go clothes shopping.”

 

“Oh god.” Lena says, taking a mournful look at her impeccably tailored wardrobe filled with silk and other decidedly stretch-free fabrics.

 

“We should clear some space in here first though, I can’t believe your mom has enough clothes to fill up this whole wardrobe.” Kara had insisted on her taking the master, which she accepted without protest despite the keen emptiness it took on at night, grateful for the proximity of the adjoining bathroom until her morning sickness had finally abated towards the start of her second trimester. The walk-in was a bonus.

 

“Kara, please spare me from elastic waistbands and muumuus, I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

 

“Nope.” Kara says. “The three of us can go this weekend, and we’re gonna buy your mom _so_ many pairs of sweatpants.”

 

“You can buy me two.”

 

“Ten.”

 

“Five, and that’s final.”

 

“Well.” Kara turns her head, pressing her ear against Lena’s belly for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. “The baby says you need seven, so I’m going with what she thinks.”

 

Lena rolls her eyes and tries to resist the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine.”

 

“Great. I’m gonna head to work, have a great day and I’ll see you both later.” She gives Lena a quick hug, washing her in the fresh scent of her perfume, before waving goodbye to her and blowing a kiss at her belly.

 

Lena changes into one of her less punishing pencil skirts and takes a sip of the tea Kara had made her. It tastes like it belongs in a different universe to the double ristretto she’s used to of a morning. Still, its awfulness does a pretty good job at quelling the usual debilitating tidal wave of arousal that accompanied Kara getting up close and personal with her baby bump, so she downs the whole thing and leaves.

 

That weekend, Kara insists on leading her through the mall with her eyes covered before revealing their final destination.

 

“Ta-da!”

 

Lena blanches. “TJ Maxx, Kara? Really?”

 

“Don’t give me that look! It doesn’t make sense to buy expensive clothes when you’re gonna grow out of them so quickly, and in six months’ time you won’t even need them anymore.”

 

She can’t argue with that. And she can’t argue with casual weekend Kara, ever, too enchanted by the way her jeans fit her ass and the well-cut form of her shoulders in a soft long-sleeved henley.

 

“Ugh, fine. But if I see you even glance at a _single_ pair of overalls, I’m taking sole custody of this baby.”

 

“Don’t listen to her.” Kara says at her stomach. “Right, so you need some t-shirts.”

 

Kara takes charge of the shopping trip, pulling cardigans and yoga pants and packets of fuzzy socks off racks as they pass them until their cart is half full.

 

Lena wanders off while Kara looks for the maternity section, finding herself in front of rows and rows of baby clothes. She’s not sure if she’s imagining it, but they even seem to smell sweeter than the other clothes. She touches the tiny sleeve of a cotton jumpsuit with a ‘For Newborns’ sticker and finds that it’s impossibly soft. Kara calls to her from a few aisles over.

 

Lena dramatically shields her own eyes as they walk past a rack displaying a few different coloured maternity overalls, and Kara laughs—free and loud like always. An old woman fixes them with a glare and Kara sobers up until they pass her, both of them giggling and mimicking her pissed off expression.  Laughing with Kara makes shopping for her morphing body more bearable than she had anticipated, fun even. By the time they arrive at the changing room they’ve amassed a truly ridiculous amount of clothes.

 

“I think I need the next size up.” She says through the door. She opens it for Kara to accept another armful of t-shirts, clad only in her bra and some forgiving jeans that she saved for when she was bloated and on her period.

 

Kara doesn’t say a word. “Is this the last of them?” Lena asks slowly, following Kara’s eyeline to where it’s landed on her breasts. Interesting. “Kara?”

 

Kara snaps out of it and looks away, up at the ceiling and then back down to Lena’s eyes. “Oh, uh, yeah! This is the last of them.” Kara closes the door and Lena’s nearly certain she sees colour on her cheeks just before she disappears. She shakes herself mentally. _Get a grip, Luthor._ Kara accidentally staring in her boobs meant nothing, probably. They were pretty distracting in this state, after all.

 

The short-haired check-out girl beams at them as they banter over who’s paying for what.

 

“Kara, I’m paying. None of these clothes are for you!”

 

“We should at least split it. You’re already buying the groceries and like, the house in general. Besides, I’m responsible for this happening.” Kara points at her belly, and then rests her hand on it. Lena tries not to jump at the contact. “Aren’t I, lemon drop?” Lena rolls her eyes. Each week Kara came up with a new batch of nicknames related to whatever fruit had come up on her stupid app. She’d gotten used to ‘sweet pea’ last week, and Kara was struggling to find lemon-related ones that were as cute.

 

She lets Kara take care of it. During the drive home, while Kara sings along to some song about being happy together, she transfers the cost of the clothes to Kara’s account from her phone, sticking a heart emoji in the notes.

\---

On the Thursday of her sixteenth week Lena goes to the DEO straight after work. Kara is suited up this particular afternoon, strolling around the offices with the usual swagger in her step that accompanied her Supergirl uniform. Lena noticed that she became more of her usual self when alone with her and Alex, though. It was funny, seeing her dressed in full regalia, idly rotating left to right on one of the exam room stools while they waited for Alex to prep the ultrasound machine.

 

Even though Lena had gotten used to the process of sonograms by now, it was still pretty surreal to come face to face with a glimpse of the baby. It was all a bit raw—Kara, without fail, cried a little, which prompted tears for Lena too, and she could’ve sworn she saw Alex wipe her eyes with the back of her sleeve as she turned off the monitor once. There was always a quiet moment between the three (four?) of them, bathed only in the glow of the monitor and the rhythmic, comforting thrum of tandem heartbeats.

 

This week Lena could make out the distinct slope of their child’s nose, upon which Kara pressed a kiss to as soon as Alex handed her a printed copy. “You have the cutest nose ever.” She directed at Lena’s stomach. “Me and your mom both have pretty great noses, so you’re welcome.” Alex prints another three copies, one for the sonogram gallery on their refrigerator door, one for Lena, and one for herself. Kara takes a picture of hers and sends it to their group-chat and Eliza before folding it and tucking it into her boot.

 

“Hey guys.” Winn says, peeking around the doorframe. “Uh, Papa Bear? You’re needed in the control room.”

 

“Shoot, okay. I’ll be right back.” Kara strides out of the room, Supergirl again all at once. Lena’s heartbeat ticks up. If Alex notices she doesn’t say anything.

 

“So how’re you doing?” Alex asks Lena once they’re alone. “Morning sickness still not bothering you anymore?”

 

“No, thank god. Unless I so much as look at a green vegetable.” God, she misses salad. _Good_ salad. Arugula with a fancy balsamic vinaigrette and shards of parmesan cheese. Thinking about it makes her stomach turn, which makes her wanna cry.

 

“What about your strength? Have you noticed any changes?” Alex starts shutting down the machine, wiping off the wand and handing Lena some paper towels to clean up. They’d found out a few weeks ago that the strength was somewhat of a gift from the baby—lending Lena some Kryptonian DNA to fortify her body against a baby who will probably be able to out-muscle her before it started kindergarten.

 

“We’re adjusting. I haven’t broken anything in nearly a week.” It turns out years of living under a yellow sun that imbued her with preternatural strength had made Kara very handy. Since they moved in she’s fixed a door back on its hinges a few times after Lena opened it a little too vigorously and replaced a front step that Lena had put her foot through. It was, much to her extreme frustration, very attractive. “Good thing we own this place, huh?” Kara had said, flashing her a charming smile, power drill in hand. Lena had taken a deep breath to keep from shattering the glass of OJ she’d been holding.

“That’s good. Anything else?”

 

Lena folds her shirt back down and starts to fidget with the hem. “Actually, I…”

 

Alex raises her eyebrows at the hesitation in Lena’s voice, pulling off her gloves and throwing them overhand into a bin. She misses. “Damn. Yeah?”

 

“Is it expected…I mean, is it normal to uh…”

 

“Out with it, Luthor.”

 

“T-to have a slightly more, um, active sex drive?”

 

Alex stops in her tracks on her way to the bin. She turns around and fixes Lena with a look that says, ‘I can’t believe you’re making me talk and/or think about this’ before discarding the gloves and pumping medical grade soap into her hands.

 

“How active are we talking exactly?”

 

“Hyperactive. Like, if I don’t take some uh…time to myself a few times a day it feels like I’m being driven to insanity by my own—”

 

“That’s enough.” Alex held up a soapy hand at her. “Yes it’s—a _few_ times? God.—Yes it’s normal. It’s all down to the industrial quantities of estrogen and progesterone your body is making right now, which is probably making your moods a bit jacked up at the moment too, yes?”

 

Lena nods and reaches for more paper towel to wipe her teary eyes. “Yeah. What the fuck.” She sniffs.

 

“I hate to tell you this Lena, but as far as your uh, problem goes…it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“You’re towards the start of your second trimester. It usually peaks towards the start of the third and tapers off as you get closer to your due date.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“’Fraid not.” Alex shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling, as if she was calling on God to give her strength for what she was about to say. “My advice? Get laid. Soon.”

 

Lena balks at her. Alex rolls her eyes, plonking back down on the roller chair.

 

“Listen, as much as this…side effect…is physical, your brain is probably more involved than you think. Having someone else take care of your problem a few times might make it easier to manage because it’ll sort out some of your emotional frustration too. That is, unless you’ve got your heart set on that whole ‘virgin birth’ thing.”

 

“I really don’t.” Times like this Lena is nearly convinced that this whole thing was some elaborate cosmic joke, the universe getting back at her for whatever evil the Luthors as a whole had committed. “It’s just…”

 

Lena’s immediate thought is of Kara. Even contemplating having sex with some random woman fills her with guilt nearly sickening in its clarity. She knows there’s no tangible reason for the guilt, knows that she’s just her wires getting crossed somewhere between living with Kara and carrying her child. So by all means she should seriously consider Alex’s advice. Except the last time she’d stepped into a club for non-work purposes was with the help of a fake I.D., and she had zero romantic prospects on the horizon, as well as a rapidly changing body that was beginning to feel like a stranger to her.

 

But she’s also masturbating frequently enough to put herself at risk of carpal tunnel.

 

“How would I even find someone?” She says, mostly thinking out loud, but Alex throws her hands up in exasperation all the same.

 

“Shit Lena, I don’t know, Tinder? This isn’t really part of my job, no offence. I mean…you’re the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I’m sure _someone_ on your payroll can point you in the right direction. You certainly have the resources.”

\---

She sleeps poorly that night after performing several ill-advised and deeply unhelpful Google searches, and eventually finds herself calling Jess into her office the next day. Of all the things both humiliating and personal she had asked of Jess, helping her to find someone to have casual sex with was beyond the pale. But Lena’s situation had become untenable.

 

Lena was being set off by the slightest provocation, by truly random and decidedly non-sexual stimuli. And, unsurprisingly, all of these triggers had one thing in common—Kara. Kara’s wet forearms as she washed the dishes, Kara taking her sweatshirt off to reveal a t-shirt underneath, Kara pacing the hallway as she brushed her teeth of a night, Kara tying her hair up or taking it down, Kara standing on her tiptoes and stretching in the morning sun, and the most potent by far—Kara’s touch.

 

When Kara would have her nightly conversation with the baby, she’d speak so close that her lips nearly brushed against Lena’s skin. It was all too easy for Lena to imagine her mouth travelling downwards, and even easier to let her hands follow that same path once she was back in the privacy of her own room. Lena thought about how Kara would press a kiss just below her navel, hesitant at first. Then, spurned on by the heat she’d see in Lena’s eyes, the kisses would travel down, down, down. If she thought hard enough Lena could nearly feel the way Kara would nose at the crotch of her sweatpants, could nearly feel Kara’s urgent hands pulling them off just enough to shove her underwear to the side and grant her the hot glory of her mouth.

 

Her newly-gained strength didn’t help either. It filled her with a potent physical energy, like a low-voltage current humming through her veins. She wondered if that’s how Kara felt all the time. It made her want to use her body more, but the only activity approved of by Alex was yoga. She wanted to lift things, break things, see just what her body could do like this. Unfortunately, this meant that another of her go-to fantasies at the moment was playfighting with Kara on the plush carpet of her bedroom. It would never happen, obviously. Kara wouldn’t agree to playfight her in the first place. She treated Lena like glass before the pregnancy and that had become even more pronounced now. But the impossibility of it didn’t stop Lena from getting off to the thought of Kara manhandling her a little.

 

In her mind, what starts out as an innocent competition to compare their strength quickly turns heated. She imagines Kara wild-eyed and thrilled at not having to hold herself back, imagines arching up against Kara in an effort to get away and surprising her with the friction of a thigh between her legs. All too easily she comes undone at the thought of Kara, strong above her and strong beneath her.

 

“Ms. Luthor?” Jess says from her door. Lena snaps out of her stupor, having drifted into somewhat of a shame spiral over how many orgasms she’s had in the past month thinking about her best friend.

 

“Come in, Jess. Take a seat.”

 

Lena steeples her fingers and presses them against her lips while Jess waits, iPad at the ready.

 

“Jess, I need to ask you something quite sensitive in nature.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Luthor.”

 

“And I need you to treat it with the strictest confidentiality.” God forbid Jess wrote this up in their minutes for some nosy intern poking around in the company cloud to find.

 

“Absolutely, Ms. Luthor. As always.”

 

“Good. Well.” She’s been rehearsing these couple of sentences in her head all morning, wanting to keep her voice sure and confident. It would be unprofessional of her to stutter and blush through this. She doesn’t want to make Jess uncomfortable. “I need you to do some research for me.” So far, so good. “I’m looking for a dating service. One that arranges um,” Shit. So close. “Casual encounters.”

 

“Casual encounters.” Jess repeats, face betraying nothing but consummate professionalism.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Will Ms. Danvers be involved in this casual encounter? Because a third party would narrow down my search a b—”

 

“What? No. Definitely not. Ms. Danvers and I aren’t together.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Jess sits forward in her chair. “So you and Ms. Danvers aren’t…partners.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re co-parenting, then?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But the baby is hers. And yours. And you didn’t undergo IVF because I would’ve known…does this have anything to do with the fact that Ms. Danvers also happens to be Su—”

 

“Jess, unless you want to spend your whole afternoon signing NDAs, I wouldn’t finish that sentence.” Of course Jess had connected the dots. She feels oddly proud. Jess is sharp. Lena wouldn’t settle for any less.

 

“Right. Of course, Ms. Luthor, my apologies.” She leans back, bringing something up on her iPad with a few swipes and taps. “There are a number of matchmaking services for what they call ‘elite singles’ such as yourself.” The fact that Jess knows this off the top of her head makes Lena both grateful and slightly embarrassed. “But they gear more towards long-term arrangements. Have you considered a paid option?”

 

“Paid?”

 

“Yes. An escort service. There’s a very reputable agency right here in National City that caters exclusively to female clients. I can write down the web address so we don’t leave a digital trail, and we can book you in under an alias and organise a cash payment. I’ve been told they’re very discrete.”

 

It’s increasingly apparent that Jess had already researched this particular topic for her. Zoning out, Lena tries to pinpoint the exact moment at which her life became so tragic that her assistant felt the need to get her laid.

 

“Shall I get back to work and give you some time to think, Ms. Luthor?”

 

“No, that won’t be necessary Jess. You can give me the address now.” Lena pushes a pad of sticky notes over her desk to Jess, who prints “silkescortservices.com/nc” in small, neat letters on the top sheet and hands it back.

 

“Will that be all for now Ms. Luthor?”

 

“Yes, thank you Jess.”

 

Jess nods and starts to head for the door. She stops somewhere in between and turns around, not quite meeting Lena’s eyes.

 

“I don’t want to overstep Ms. Luthor, but I’ve noticed the way Ms. Danvers looks at you.” Lena’s stomach drops. “She’s been helping you with everything else, why wouldn’t she help you with this?”

 

Lena sits in stunned silence when Jess leaves. At first she thinks that Jess is implying that Kara would help her find someone, but then that phrase “the way Ms. Danvers looks at you” starts on a loop in her head. What did she mean by that? Why was Jess observing the way Kara looked at her in the first place? Jess had only been in the room with the two of them a few times since the pregnancy, hardly enough to infer some concrete “way” Kara looked at her. And besides, Lena had attributed the nearly-permanent starry-eyed expression on Kara’s face to the little person growing inside her. But Jess was suggesting that…

 

Unbidden, a vivid image of Kara’s face in the TJ Maxx changeroom appears in her mind. Unless Lena had suddenly acquired a particularly realistic tattoo of Kara’s favourite donuts on her chest that she herself couldn’t see, it seemed like Kara had been staring at her tits like she liked them. And that meant Kara might be . . . no. That would be ridiculous. Infeasible. It was probably just a one-off. The only way to know for certain was to make it happen again. But if she could make it happen again, then maybe…

 

Lena tears off the sticky note with Jess’s neat writing on it. Taking a final glance, she crumples it into a tight ball and throws it in the trash.

\---

Lena spends the rest of the day in a distracted daze. When she arrives home Kara’s started on dinner already, the kitchen scented with the rosemary sprig Kara had put in the pasta water. She sight of Kara at the stove, shoulder-blade glancing against her blue t-shirt with each shake of the frying pan, fills her with a heady mix of intense calm and something akin to anticipation.

 

They stay up on Friday and Saturday nights, usually watching a movie after their self-prescribed dose of crime and comedy. Kara had asked to see all of Lena’s favourites, but that didn’t last long. After nearly tearing a hole in their arm of their couch from gripping it so hard a fortnight ago during _Silence of the Lambs_ , Kara had taken it upon herself to give Lena an extensive education in movie-musicals. Tonight they watch _Grease_. Kara makes a good Sandy and an even better Danny, singing along to nearly every song. Kara stays quiet during ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’, and the lyrics and emotion in Stockard Channing’s voice have Lena barely concealing her sobs. Kara doesn’t say anything, just hands her a Kleenex from one of their many boxes and presses her head a little closer against Lena’s shoulder, a protective hand on her belly.

 

Lena flicks through Netflix afterwards, and Kara, drowsy, rolls over onto her stomach and drops her head to Lena’s bump as per routine.

 

“How are you, my little avocado?” Kara says in a soft voice. “Guacamole baby.” She starts laughing sleepily at her own words and Lena shakes her head, half-sick with affection. She cards her fingers through Kara’s impossibly soft hair and feels her sigh.

 

“Lena?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why does your tummy smell like choc chip cookies?” Kara sniffs at her a little, pulls at the hem of her shirt.

 

“Oh,” Lena says, sensing an opportunity. “It’s cocoa butter. For stretchmarks.” She pulls her shirt up the rest of the way, so the band of her bra is just showing. Lena tracks the way Kara’s eyes track the movement.

 

“It smells _amazing_.” Kara nuzzles against her, inhaling deeply. Although Kara was always close to her belly, drawn there like a magnet, she’s never made contact with anything but her gentle hands. Arousal runs down Lena’s body like a lightning rod struck in a storm. This is new. This is very new.

 

“Stop, that tickles.” She pulls off a convincingly boisterous giggle. Kara’s face that close to where she wants it most makes her feel hysterical enough to laugh or cry.

 

“Does it?” Kara looks up at her, mischief glinting in her eye. Oh no. “Are you ticklish?”

 

“No. I’m not, I’m not ticklish at all, in fact—" But it’s too late. Kara jumps her, hands everywhere, fingers digging into her ribs and under her neck, or brushing feather-soft but _fast_ over her still-exposed stomach. She’s laughing so hard she can’t get the words out to tell Kara to stop, tries to get away but only ends up on her back, and she realises with a forceful throb of desire that if it weren’t for her bump Kara would be lying flush on top of her. The laughter is almost painful in its intensity, beat out only by the overwhelming pressure spiking between her legs. She tries to grab at Kara’s hands, struggles, squirms underneath her.

 

“Kara, STOP.” Lena bucks upwards and pushes against Kara’s shoulders, and, to the surprise of them both, flips Kara onto her back. Lena’s straddling her, pressing Kara’s shoulders into the couch. Kara’s hands go still in surrender. They’re just hovering over Lena’s thighs, Lena can feel the heat of them through her yoga pants. Something flashes in her. Lena grabs both of Kara’s wrists, pinning them above her head. It’s the fastest she’s moved maybe ever, and for a tense moment all they do is pant at each other. Kara’s pupils are blown, and her hooded eyes flick down to Lena’s open mouth.

 

Unmistakable. The rush of recognition goes right to Lena’s head and she digs her hand hard into Kara’s stomach, merciless.

 

“No, no!” Kara laughs breathily, truly pinned by one of Lena’s hands, and where Kara had been laughing along with her in their previous position Lena is silent, breathing hard. She moves to attack the crook of Kara’s neck and Kara flinches and squirms so severely that her mouth catches on the inside of Lena’s wrist, wet. She whines.

 

“Uncle, uncle!” Kara says, voice so laden with desperation that Lena feels it in her cunt. She sits back over Kara’s hips, hands raised, relenting, and feels the distinct sensation of Kara’s pelvis slowly thrusting up, just once, against the pressure. Lena sees a look of panic pass over Kara’s face and it spooks her. She quickly scrambles off the couch, face burning.

 

“Not used to being bested in a fight, huh Supergirl?” She laughs uneasily, pulling down her shirt from where it had been rucked up, body thrumming with urgent heat.

 

“Aha, no, I-I’m not.” Kara adjusts her glasses and sits up, looking more than a little debauched. It makes Lena want to be on top of her again. She has to get out of there.

 

“I’m gonna have a shower and then turn in for the night, I’ll see you in the morning?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

As soon as Lena locks the door behind her she shoves a hand down her pants, legs shaking with the force of the feeling. She’d never been this sensitive before, not in her whole life. Thinking about Kara’s body under her, the way her laughter had given way to frantic keening breaths, and her open, panting mouth—she sucks the the place on her wrist where Kara’s lips had touched and takes less than a few minutes to finish. There really was no mistaking the look in her eyes this time. Slumped against the door, Lena makes a decision. And then she makes a plan.

\---

 

Kara figures that there might not be much in life that’s better than this. Their house is perfect down to the studs in their hardwood floors, and so wonderfully _theirs._ It has Lena’s clean lines and Kara’s warmth married into a beautiful soup of rugs and framed art and linen couches. Coming home from work every day is a pleasure, like stepping into something that you know intuitively is yours.

 

And then there’s Lena herself.

Kara has heard that women glow when they’re pregnant from any number of websites and Eliza’s beat-up second hand copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting._ But Lena radiates energy. Kara sometimes finds herself stopped dead in her tracks when she enters Lena’s orbit, whether it be washing a dish in the kitchen or staring ponderously at her laptop in the nook they’d set up as her in home office. Her maternity clothes, as much as she’d griped about them, brought out an extra level of softness in her. In Kara’s opinion, her friend never looked better than dressed in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt with the swell of her belly just barely visible.

 

Licking excess peanut butter off the knife and placing it in the sink, Kara contemplates this. Lena hadn’t asked for a sandwich but she always gets peckish after exercise and Kara loves nothing more than meeting her needs, even before she vocalises them. She puts the two halves of the sandwich together, the buttered and the honeyed, and sets it on a plate. In the living room, the prenatal yoga instructor drones something about downward facing dog and Lena makes a little huff of exertion as she switches positions.

 

The plate stutters in Kara’s hand when she steps into the living room. Lena has switched into cat-cow, on her hands and knees, alternating between arching her spine and curving it in. Her chest presses outward, barely contained within the confines of her sports bra, and her backside arches up, creating an imperfect but still captivating ‘U’. There’s sweat beading in her cleavage—Kara remembers Lena saying that yoga was more taxing with the addition of body weight—and it draws Kara’s attention to settle there. She watches it rise and fall with Lena’s breaths, and struggle against the bold patterned elastic.

 

“Kara?” Lena is looking at her, back arched and eyes dark. “I’ll be finished in a minute.”

 

“Sure. Yeah. Ok!” Off-kilter, Kara retreats back into the kitchen, suddenly unsure of what she’s doing. She wonders if Lena will want juice to go with her sandwich, and decides she probably will, fixing a tall glass. She also cuts the sandwich diagonally and adds potato chips to the negative space on the plate, something Lena would never ask for but will always eat when they’re provided.

 

The second time she walks into the living room is right as the TV instructor says “ _Happy baby pose”._ She arrives to the sight of Lena flat on her back, legs spread and in the air held in place by her hands. Kara understands the need for this position because Lena’s inner thigh muscles, only semi-covered by the elastic of her work out shorts, look like they need a good, long stretch. Kara’s heart kicks and starts pumping blood through her veins in what she assumes is sympathy. Lena’s legs must be really sore.

 

When the instructor says it’s okay to rock back and forth and Lena does, Kara decides that she needs to take the crusts off of the sandwich too.

 

After all is said and done, Kara has two crustless sandwiches, a glass of pineapple juice, chips, and a small Hershey’s kiss for after. Lena is laying on her mat in corpse pose, chest rising and falling with her breath, legs slightly spread, one hand cradling her tummy. “Do I hear a grizzly bear sandwich?” She says when Kara comes padding in. The gratification on her face when Kara sets the meal in front of her on the coffee table is enough to make her chest puff in pride.

 

Kara has found that her tolerance for being away from Lena has waned since they moved in together. She sits close as she eats her lunch (technically, second lunch, but who’s counting) and flips through the channels until they agree on a banal cooking show. When the plate is demolished down to crumbs, Kara asks Lena if she wants a kiss, holding the piece of foil wrapped chocolate in her hand. She’s surprised when red blooms on Lena’s chest, right at the hem of her sports bra, and the other woman stammers out a laugh. She wonders if she’s misinterpreting what happens when she offers the chocolate as disappointment.

 

The show natters on in the background and Kara drops her head to Lena’s shoulder, content. Midday sun is pouring in from the adjacent windows and warming her toes. She closes her eyes briefly and behind them, Kara sees Lena. Lena, in cow pose, hair down, cheeks pink, kneeling on her bed with her back arched in that sloppy ‘U’.

 

Kara blinks back into reality, startled, and looks up at her real Lena, who smiles. She has tacky leftover crumbs stuck to her mouth. The image of it is so sweet, especially with Lena’s hand protectively placed on her stomach, that it hits with the slap of a bucket of cold water. Were pregnancy hormones contagious? It might be the only explanation.

 

“Kara?” Kara hums. “You haven’t told me what size the baby is this week.”

 

“Oh! Shoot.” Kara roots around next to her on the couch for her phone, pulling up the app and squinting. “Uh...oh! She’s a little bell pepper. Rao she’s growing fast.”

 

Kara shuffles so her head is in Lena’s lap and her face is pressed into her protruding abdomen. Lena places a firm hand on the back of the blonde’s head, cradling her there, and it sends a jolt of confusing electricity all the way down her body. She tries to refocus her energy on the baby. “Hi...belly pepper.”

 

Above her there’s a sweet giggle. It calls back the image of Lena on top of her, squirming, and the feeling of her skin under Kara’s hands. Her body is a sticky fever at the thought of it and she sticks her face further into Lena’s belly, squeezing her eyes shut. What’s wrong with her this week? Is she sick?  Maybe it’s a real fever.

 

“Belly pepper.” Lena whispers with a tilt in her voice. She strokes her hands through Kara’s hair, an unspoken invitation to stay, and works through some of the knots caused by her ponytail. It stokes Kara’s sickness. “I’m praying the baby doesn’t inherit your sense of humor.”

\---

Around the time the baby is a small banana, Kara notices things going hinky. It’s possible that they were that way before and she was just too wrapped up in the early excitement of the baby. She realizes now how steeped she’d been in meeting Lena’s every possible need and late-night craving, how she may have missed some important markers as to Lena’s emotional well-being.

 

Her first hint comes when, after a pleasant dinner at the dining table (she convinces Lena to put her work away and kick her feet into Kara’s lap, they sit closer together than is probably necessary, Lena tells a funny story about seeing a pigeon fly into somebody’s face on the sidewalk) Lena drops a plate during the washing up.

 

It hits the floor and shatters with a jarring noise. “Don’t move a muscle.” Kara says, sticking her hands out. It’s knee jerk and preposterous considering that Lena is impenetrable, but she doesn’t get an opportunity to think it through because Lena is sniffling, then hiccuping. “What’s the matter?”

 

“None of my clothes fit and now I’m an idiot who can’t hold plates.” Lena all but wails into her hands. Stunned, Kara gets to her knees and tries to gather the pieces of broken plate while still being as comforting as possible. “I went to MIT!”

 

“You’re not an idiot Lena, lots of people can’t hold plates.” Lena sobs louder. It takes 10 minutes of cajoling to convince her to sit with Kara on the couch and a 5 minute Vine compilation to quiet her crying. Lena ends up wrapped in a large-knit blanket that Kara herself had bundled her in, red faced and giggling at at the computer.

 

“I’m sorry.” She says after a few minutes. “My emotions have been...getting the best of me lately.”

 

“It’s fine.” Kara smiles, happy to see Lena happy. “I’ll just try to be a little more careful in the future.”

 

Most people would—try to tread more lightly, that is. While mostly pure of heart and intention, Kara is known for sometimes missing queues, and miss them she does. A comment about maybe needing to get the next size up in shirts, offhanded and said after Lena comes into the living room in a tank top that exposes a sliver of her belly and rides so low on her bust that her bra is showing, ends up catastrophically.

 

“I can’t believe you hate my body.” Lena huffs. Kara wants so badly to take her seriously but she has an anger blush that starts in her chest and captivates Kara like a moth orbiting a flame. There’s something about the way Lena is when she’s mad—her eyes get dark, she breathes heavy, she has a stormy, electric energy—it does funny things to Kara. Funny things that, if she didn’t know any better, she might think were—

 

But, that’s ridiculous. Lena is her best friend and Kara isn’t attracted to women. She figures it’s a sympathetic response to seeing her distressed. Which is to say nothing of whether or not Kara will occasionally push a button or two just to see her riled up for the reciprocal feeling it evokes. Being a future dad is weird.

 

(“I don’t hate your body.” Kara says in that instance, heart hammering with sincerity. “I worship it. You look amazing. I just want you to have tank tops that fit.” Right after she says it, Lena gets a peculiar look on her face and says she needs to take a shower).

 

One of their treasured habits is reading together out of Kara’s copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ on the couch. Kara will do voices, and despite Lena’s insistence that it’s a pregnancy advice book and it doesn’t _need_ voices, she smiles and giggles along. During these nights they’ll snuggle together on the couch, Lena with her feet up and a support pillow under her back, and tilt their heads together.

 

“Wow.” Kara says as they turn the page. “The baby can hear now. I gotta talk to Alex about that swear jar.”

 

“That’s nothing.” Lena laughs. “I had a meeting with a partner today where I had to tell him that we’re edging him out—babynana probably had her vocabulary expanded by 10 or 20 words.”

 

Kara purses her lips. Of course, she’s not in control of Lena’s life and she wants her to live it as she sees fit, with the few notable exceptions of alcohol, caffeine, and raw fish. But nearing the end of her second trimester there are undeniable changes to her body. Back aches, mood swings, strange cravings, and she’s read an alarming number of articles about how stress can adversely affect a fetus. Part of Kara wants Lena home just so she can protect her and provide for her, make her food and make sure the baby grows in a peaceful environment.

 

With good intentions and a good heart, Kara says: “You know, maybe you could consider taking some maternity leave soon. Wouldn’t it be nice to just hang home and let me take care of you?”

 

In the silence that follows, Kara realizes what a mistake she’s made. She’s learned when quiet sounds like Lena revving herself up to spoil for a fight, and this stretch is downright sinister. When she raises her head from Kara’s shoulder her chest and neck are already bright crimson and her face is pouty. _Don’t stare at her chest_ , Kara reasons with herself, _and stop thinking about how cute she looks._

 

“Are you implying that I can’t tell for myself when I’m ready to stop working?” Lena has risen up completely and is encroaching on Kara’s personal space, causing her to lean back. “Because I’ll know when I’m ready.”

 

“No—Lena, of course not. I was just suggesting…” Kara swallows. Her chest is getting close to her face and it’s causing sweat to bead at her temples. “I know how tired you are lately and I wanted—”

 

“You wanted what?” Lena says shrilly. “To have me here barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen? This isn’t Appalachia Kara, I’m my own woman—” She continues to take her to task, leaning forward and forcing Kara to retreat onto her elbows. It’s a reminder of how powerful she is now. Kara can’t focus on a single thing she’s saying, too preoccupied with her proximity and the sheer warmth of her. “—Susan B. Anthony didn’t die so you could tell me to stay home!” Lena finishes with flourish, poking Kara squarely in her chest and leaving her finger there.

 

Kara isn’t sure what’s wrong, but something is brewing low in her stomach. Lena has her one press forward away from being flat on her back, and Kara knows now just how strong she is. She’d go willingly, maybe even excitedly. That knowledge adds something to her ire—if she wanted to, Lena could hold her down and make her listen. She knows what it feels like to have Lena sitting across her hips, both wrists pinned with one of Lena’s hands, eyes fiery above her. Kara licks her lips.

 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Her voice comes out huskier than intended. Lena’s eyes widen a little when she registers it. A portion of her bluster disappears and she backs off an inch, allowing Kara to come up. Part of her isn’t ready for this to be over. She wants Lena to keep looking at her like she’s ready to shove her backwards onto the couch and keep yelling.

 

“Well.” Her voice wavers. “I do.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be, uh. I’ll be better next time. You take time off work when you’re ready.”

 

“Thank you?” There’s a confused undercurrent to Lena’s voice like she’s lost her handle on the situation. A weird energy descends over them as she lets up all the way and gives Kara the space to sit up straight. She’s lightheaded all of a sudden.

 

“I think I’m going to take a shower, if we’re okay.”

 

“Sure, whatever you want.”

 

In the bathroom, still curiously wound, Kara runs the water to warm and shucks off her clothes. Her body is tight and overfull with something that’s lingered from her interaction with Lena, an all too common feeling recently. Kara huffs as she wretches her panties down her legs and kicks them into the corner with a petulant flick of her foot. Unencumbered, something makes itself known between her legs other than a persistent tautness. She touches with the tips of her fingers and brings them to her face only to find them wet and sticky with the evidence of exactly what Lena was doing to her.

 

In the background, as if from a dream, Lena turns on the stereo and music filters in muffled. Kara’s point of focus shifts from her soiled hand to beyond—a tile on the floor, cracked at the corner. She twists the water off and redresses after cleaning herself with a wad of toilet paper. That crack is unacceptable—they’d paid more than a million dollars for this house, and to have it look a mess? It wouldn’t stand.

 

“Kara?” Lena says with surprise when she blusters past her, grabbing her keys from the bowl in the living room. “Where are you going?”

 

“Hardware store.” Is all Kara says before she emerges into the coolness of the night, refreshing as her shower might have been if she’d taken it. The plan lays itself out in her head: she’ll go to the hardware store—walk there, maybe—pick up glue, and put that tile back together precise-like. And if there’s anything else in the house that needs fixing, well—all the better for her.

\---

The door to the hardware store jingles when Kara opens it, fresh from her 2 mile walk down the hill. It’s empty, as would be expected for a Wednesday night at 8, but for a bored looking cashier with his boots kicked up on the checkout counter. He’s reading a copy of _Field & Stream _ that looks well loved.

 

“Can I help you find anything?” He asks without looking up. He’s wearing a billed cap and a Dave Matthews Band T-shirt.

 

“Superglue?” Kara asks, and he gestures with a finger to aisle six. Strolling past shelves of paint and ladders, she takes several minutes to deliberate over the merits of brush versus squeeze bottle if only for the mental break it gives her. It also allows her to hold out on checking her phone for a few blessed minutes.

 

Kara gives in when she settles on a bottle of generic brand and finds that Lena has pitched a request for an Almond Joy. She gets six. “Will that be all?” The cashier sighs. He glances at her loot over the top of his magazine. “Hungry?”

 

“My friend.” Kara says, then scratches her head. “I mean, my...something. She’s pregnant. With my baby.”

 

“No kiddin.” The man punches in a price with stubby, yellow-tinted fingers. “Cravings can be a real bitch. Baby mama drama...I been there sister.”

 

“Really?” Kara perks up. “Did you ever have like...funny feelings about her?”

 

“While we were making the baby? Hell yeah.” He snorts, bringing the items into a plastic bag with a broad sweep of his arm. “But something about child support really kills the mood. I will say though. A lady carrying your baby? Very sexy.”

 

“No kidding.” Kara says under her breath and hands the man a $10 bill. She exits onto the sidewalk, the placid nighttime backdrop of the suburbs. She thinks that she’ll walk home, too.

 

The front door opens 2 hours after she’d left and she finds Lena on the couch much the same way she’d been. The dark haired woman leans forward and hits pause on the TV, peering over at Kara with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay? You were gone for a while.”

 

“Fine.” Kara smiles tightly. “Just wanted to get that tile in the bathroom fixed.”

 

“What tile? It’s 10 at night.” The crease in Lena’s brow deepens. “Won’t you come to bed with me?”

 

There’s such softness in her voice, such uncertainty. Kara knows she could never deny her anything, just wants to soothe that crease away. Plus, what had started out as a one-off sleepover after Kara missed out on _The Good Place_ and felt too shaken to sleep alone had turned into something that Kara found herself looking forward to throughout the whole day. Snuggling close to Lena of a night, hand resting on her belly as they slept, and waking up warm and safe and pressed against her. “Of course I will.” She says, taking the bag into the living room and setting it in front of her. “Do you want to have an Almond Joy?”

 

“Can I eat it in bed?”  Lena peers into the bag. “How did you know I actually wanted 6?”

 

“A woman’s intuition.” Kara laughs. She pulls Lena to her side and places a kiss on the top of her head. The other woman sighs against her, slackening.

 

“I missed you.” She murmurs. Kara’s heart starts like an engine. “I know it’s my baby hormones but I hate not being with with you. Even for a few hours.”

 

“I missed you too.” There it is again, the tension in Kara’s body growing taut. Lena is next to her, folded into her, breathing hot on her shoulder. She’s all downy curves and fluttering eyelashes. _A_ _lady carrying your baby? Very sexy._ No kidding. Kara squeezes Lena tight with both arms and peppers her head with kisses, eliciting a delighted squeak. “Even a few hours, huh? Babynana is turning you into a big sap, Ms. Luthor. It really must be my child.”

 

“Hmm.” Lena agrees, wriggling her body in closer to Kara’s. “Is that why I can’t sleep without you anymore? She must want to stay close to you.”

 

As hard as she tries, Kara gets dragged back every time. Lena’s proximity is mood-altering. It summons an urge like seeing a bag of rice and wanting to submerge your hand in it, or to rub the smooth surface of a stone with the pad of your thumb. Kara is _not_ attracted to women. But there’s something about Lena’s body that’s calling out to hers, asking her to submerge, to rub.

 

“Let’s go to bed.” She says into the crown of Lena’s head where seconds ago she’d left a kiss. “I want half of an Almond Joy.”

 

“Over my dead body.” Lena snatches the bag from the table and sprints—well, as best as she can, it’s more of a hurried waddle—toward the bedroom. Kara knows she’s being pulled under. She wonders if it’s what she wants or not.

\---

Kara doesn’t detect anything off in the house when she enters it that night. It’s a typical Friday. She’d gotten off work late and crime in the city was at a lull. She knows Lena will be home because she’d started leaving the office at 2 and working from her office nook most days. It’s not full maternity leave, but it’s a start, and it gives Kara more leverage on distracting her from spreadsheets at night.

 

The first thing she notices when she opens the door is that the lights in the living room are dim. Odd, because she wasn’t aware they had a dimmer. The second is that there’s soft music drifting in from the suddenly mood-lit area.

 

“Bonnie Raitt?” Kara calls with a smile as she toes off her shoes and tucks them under the sideboard. She trots into the living room in her socked feet. “Is there a special occasion?”

 

The sentence trails off at the end when she sees Lena. She’s on the couch, dressed in a black shift dress made special because of its rareness—these days Lena sticks to sweatpants and shirts in the house—with her hair down and tossed over one shoulder. She’s folded over forward in her lap, as if in a stretch, and grabbing at her calves. Her head turns and she smiles when Kara enters.

 

“Hi.” She says.

 

“Hi.” Kara replies, stupidly. “Are those cookies?”

 

“Yeah, I made them. Come sit?” It feels inexplicably like a trap. _But it’s Lena_ her mind says, _and she has cookies_. Kara drops her knapsack at her feet and takes a few cautious steps inside, toward the aroma of baked goods that rest on the coffee table. There’s a beer for her and Lena has one of her fizzy ginger drinks tucked safely atop a coaster. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Uh! No.” Kara smiles and shakes her head, forces her legs to propel her at a normal pace toward the couch. She sheds her cardigan on the way, draping it over an armchair and leaving her in a plaid button down tucked into some straight legged chinos. She doesn’t miss the way Lena’s eyes do a slow drag over her frame, lingering on her slim hips. “Those cookies just smell good is all. Wow!” She laughs when she sits, gesturing to the plate. “There’s a lot.”

 

“I took off early and had some time on my hands.” Lena admits, sitting up straight now. She keeps her arms stretched and hands rubbing at her bare knees. Kara notices that she’s shaved her legs, another curiosity. Lena can’t bend over in the shower anymore and thus has mostly eschewed it, but there’s not a single dark hair visible on her legs. Kara gulps. Something’s up. “They’re double chocolate.”

  


“Oh, in that case.” Kara doesn’t waste any time grabbing one and cramming it into her mouth. It’s _delicious._ She moans out loud and doesn’t miss Lena’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Lena, they’re yummy.”

 

Lena takes a pull from her drink, smiling around the lip of the bottle. “I made them special for you.” Kara stops mid-bite and opens her eyes wide. When did Lena’s voice get so dirty? She sounds like she chewed coal and then practiced in the mirror. “I wanted to say thank you.” Holy shit. Jesus Christ on a saltine cracker.

 

“Uh, oh yeah?” Kara chuckles, attempting to break the tension. It barely cracks it. “For what?”

 

“Taking such good care of me.” Is this a nightmare? Lena’s words have a conduit directly to Kara’s panties, where they spark. Kara reaches frantically for her beer and drinks from it, trying not to scream as Lena edges closer to her and presses their knees together. “And for putting up with me.”

 

“Putting up with you?” It’s incredible that Kara asks the question despite knowing that it’s exactly what Lena wants to hear. And that it’s furthering a script meant to bring her to her ruin. Somehow.

 

“Yes, putting up with me.” Lena is so close now that Kara can smell her breath, flinty and herbal. “Do you want another cookie?”

 

Kara crosses her legs and clenches. “I’m fine.”

 

“I know I’ve been emotional lately.”

 

“Emotional? Pssht.” Kara laughs unconvincingly and takes another gulp of her beer. “You’ve been fine. A little wetter than usual, but fine.” Kara realizes the words before they come out of her mouth, technically, but they traitorously leave her anyway. She makes a face like a deer caught in the headlights and Lena turns red, that stupid blush showing up again to haunt her. “I meant with...tears.”

 

“Sure, I know.” Lena clears her throat. “I have been. It’s just my hormones. They’ve been out of control.”

 

Kara sees her entire life flash in front of her eyes before she responds. There’s only one thing to say and, in her view, one inevitable outcome. She’s seen lesbian porn; it’s the only kind she watches, really (it’s gentler than its other counterparts, or rough in a different way, evoking of a different kind of feeling) and this script feels pulled from one word for word. _Don’t ask a question you’re not ready to know the answer to_ her common sense begs. “How can I help you out?” She asks anyway.

 

Lena closes her eyes and bites her lip taking a deep, fortifying breath. “I’ve been frustrated.”

 

“Frustrated?”

 

“Sexually.” The word sucks all of the air out of the room. “I’ve been horny. Really, really freaking—”

 

“Okay!” Kara laughs and adjusts her glasses. “I think I get it. It’s—that’s hormones, right, making you—“

 

“Turned on, almost always?” Lena says. “Yeah, that’s what Alex says. And she says it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

 

“Okay, well, and how bad is it now?” Maybe there’s a simple solution to this. What does Lena need, a vibrator? Kara can get her a vibrator. She’ll get her 10, if that’s what she wants.

 

“I masturbate at least 3 times a day.” Lena says seriously. Kara chokes on nothing. “I can’t take it anymore, Kara. My wrist hurts. Plus—” She shuffles closer, which Kara isn’t sure is necessary, and does her voice really need to be that low and breathy? “I’m 4 months away from giving birth and I’m a virgin. I don’t want that for myself.”

 

The thought of Lena having sex for the first time with anybody else but her makes Kara’s blood boil. But the thought of taking Lena’s virginity makes her break out in a cold sweat. She has a Rubik's cube made out of spikes in front of her and Lena is about to beg her to put her hands all over it. “So what are you asking me to do?”

 

Lena shifts and sits on her knees facing Kara, one arm behind her on the couch and the other resting on her bicep. Earnestness is usually Kara’s bag but Lena has it here in spades, laced with something headier. “Touch me.” She urges. “You’ve been so helpful with everything else. Can you help me with this too?”

 

Here, Lena’s business background is the star of the show. It’s such an insidious negotiation tactic to make her request sound so benign. Like she’s asking Kara to rub her back or her feet, not fuck her. If she wasn’t embattled at the moment Kara would be impressed and a little proud.

 

As it is, she’s wet enough that it runs down one thigh and the knowing of it catches her off guard. It was so hard with boys that she’d never gotten to enjoy really being turned on. Endless, sour friction, grinding, off center rubbing. Her with her eyes closed flipping through fantasies like CDs in a jukebox. Always a production, a challenge. And yet here Lena was, doing it with the ease of flipping on a lightswitch. The promise of virginal fumbling around the bulge of her stomach was doing more to her than anything else ever had.

 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” She breathes, and Lena chuckles like she’d been expecting that answer.

 

“I can start you off.” Lena says. The she slides into her lap, easy-as-pie, legs bracketing Kara’s thighs and body curved over her. “It’s easy.” As if to demonstrate, Lena drags her hips against Kara’s abs, a window display. _You could have all of this. It would be simple._

 

 _“_ Easy.” Kara laughs and Lena does too. It’s a comforting sound amidst an otherwise very confusing situation.

 

“I’m already halfway there.” Curtained behind Lena’s hair, Kara feels in a different universe. “You wouldn’t even have to take off my underwear, just move it to the side. Rub my clit or put your fingers inside me. Whatever you wanted, really.” Her hand is suddenly being moved from where it rests uselessly on the couch cushion to Lena’s bare thigh. Under the guidance of Lena’s palm, it moves up and up and up, finally pushing at the hem of her shift. “Thank you, Kara.” Lena whispers desperately as Kara’s hand makes the ascent to the chalky soft skin of her inner thigh. “Thank you, thank you.”

 

For a moment, Kara closes her eyes and imagines what it would be like. She would allow Lena to move her hand between her legs, push her underwear to the side and fuck into her with a beginner’s keenness. While she adjusts to the newness of somebody else’s fingers (and Kara can see her adjusting: eyes closed, face crumpled in concentration, hips twitching) Kara would pull at the fabric of that flimsy TJMaxx dress and face her obsession with Lena’s breasts. In the safety of her fantasy she can let her free hand roam, squeezing through the fabric of her bralette, then under it, then without it altogether.

 

She wonders how Lena is when she’s being touched like that. Kara bets she’s loud. She would replace her hand on her nipple with her mouth and move inside her, letting go with the force of multiple weeks of Lena-inflicted vexation. The tickling. The fights. If she wanted it like that, Kara would give it to her.

 

Except she couldn’t. In a world without stakes, maybe, or where Kara was sure of what she was feeling. But not now, not on their couch with Lena almost vibrating off her lap with pent up pregnancy hormones. She stops the ascent of her hand and leans back as far as she can, out of Lena’s zone of attack. “No, I’m sorry.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

 

Lena rears back as if burned, removing her hand from Kara’s and pitching to stand between the couch and coffee table. Kara is foggy headed and trying to reassemble the scattered pieces of her mind while Lena pushes at her dress, trying to get it back down her legs. Her powers are out of whack and she struggles to concentrate while she’s tuning into random city sounds on accident.

 

“God, I’m sorry.” She warbles, sniffing. “That was stupid, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

 

“You didn’t embarrass me.” She’s all sharp edges. Her tear stained face and pouting mouth would make it funny if Kara weren’t so distressed by it. “Nobody can embarrass me. My body is just a horrible hormone prison. I’m fine.”

 

Kara is still struggling to right herself when Lena says she’s going to bed. She lets her retreat without complaint, figures they both need a little space before the rawness dies and they can talk about it. Usually in control of what she’s listening to, Kara tunes in to sounds outside the house at random. A baby crying, the sound of two people having dinner, Alex talking to Winn at the DEO. Her body is a throbbing livewire, still heated from Lena’s weight on top of her. She takes off her glasses and rubs her hands over her face, sitting back into the couch.

 

A kitchen is in full swing at a restaurant somewhere, somebody is watching a DVR rerun of The Voice, Lena is in her bedroom moaning—Kara’s eyes fly open and she sits up straight, frozen. Her brain doesn’t keep flipping, it stays fixed on the sound of Lena’s breathy moans. She slams her hands over her ears. _Change the channel_ Kara begs herself. _Change the channel change the channel change the channel._

 

They stay linked until Lena works herself over to completion. Kara hears and feels every moment until her last, prolonged whine, clearly muffled as to not be heard. It would be funny if Kara wasn’t rocked to her foundation by it. Lena’s breathing peters off to familiar dainty snores and Kara reigns herself under control, breathing heavy and fisting her chinos so hard that she’s surprised there’s no hole in them.

 

At least it’s over. Kara chalks it up to wires crossed due to her emotions and resigns herself to a cold shower. After a night of rest (apart) they can talk about what happened and work things back to normal, just like they always had. Things would be okay.

\---

Things are not okay.

 

“Lena?” Kara bangs on the bedroom door then knocks her forehead against it. “It’s been three days! I’ve hardly seen you. Come out so we can talk?”

 

Hardly seen, but heard is a different animal. Lena wasn’t kidding about masturbating three times a day or more, even when she was too angry at Kara to leave her bedroom while she was home. There must be some kind of karmic element to her somehow losing control of her powers and tuning in every time Lena decides to touch herself.

 

“I don’t want to talk!” Lena calls back. “I’m humiliated.”

 

“You said you weren’t embarrassed!”

 

“I lied!”

 

“Human sexuality is normal and healthy!”

 

She’s trying to convince both of them. _Rub my clit or put your fingers inside me. Whatever you wanted, really_ is a mantra that Kara now hears daily in addition to Lena’s surround-sound demonstration. Alex tells her that she looks like she hasn’t slept since she was born. She doesn’t know the half of it.

 

“I don’t care.” Lena responds petulantly. Kara groans. She can’t take another day of it this. She misses Lena and she’s almost positive that all of the strange happenings can be linked to them fighting. There’s no other explanation for her powers to be this out of whack.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I let it get way farther than I should have. I should’ve stopped you as soon as I knew what was happening. We’re both just...a little baby crazy, is all.” Kara nods to herself. That’s all it is. Lena’s hormonal and Kara is attracted to what she’s doing for her. “I miss you. Please come out. Let’s go get ice cream or something.”

 

The door opens a crack and Lena’s eye and part of her face become visible. “You really should have stopped me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Were you serious about ice cream?

 

“Depends. Are we okay again?

 

From behind the door, Lena smiles.

\---

It’s a perfect day, all things considered. They walk down to get ice cream together, Lena having finally relented on the topic of maternity overalls (“ _Marie Claire_ says they’re in.”) and wearing them over a striped T-shirt with Keds. She looks adorable and Kara is pleased to be seen with her, pleased by the looks they get when they stroll with Lena hanging on to the crook of her elbow. It’s a testament to their connection how quickly they can work back to homeostasis in their relationship. Lena laughs along with her while they argue over whether there’s a cute nickname to be made from spaghetti squash.

 

And if Kara stares a little too long while Lena licks her strawberry cone in broad, languid strokes, or catches an errant drop with the pink tip of her tongue? Well. It was like she’d said to Lena: baby crazy.

 

They resume their normal routine that night with Kara cooking dinner and a double feature of true crime and comedy. The only difference is that they sit a respectable distance apart which Kara figures is for the best. By the end of it, Lena is nodding off against the back of the couch. Kara tries not to get too caught up in thinking that it would usually be her shoulder hat Lena’s head is tipping against.

 

Tucking herself into bed afterward, Kara thanks Rao for small favors. Things aren’t exactly the same but they’re damn close, and in three months they’ll have a baby. She wriggles in her sheets and smiles to herself. Plus, she’s not hearing Lena masturbate anymore—again, small favors. She shuts her eyes and prepares for her first night of good sleep in 4 days.

 

But then she hears a voice. Low, dirty, and loud enough that it sounds like it’s coming from right next to her. Lena’s voice.

 

_“Kara…”_

 

Her eyes fly open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays from us (@weirddyke and @seabiscuits-us) and thanks again for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i'm sure you can guess why this chapter took a little longer by taking a look at the word count. thank you all so much for the messages and comments and reaction posts, we read all of them! and we're so excited for you guys to read this chapter because it's been REALLY fun to write lmao, enjoy!!

Lena Luthor is convinced Kara Danvers is trying to two things in tandem: turn their four-bedroom slice of domestic heaven into the set of a particularly elaborate HGTV renovation show, and drive her fucking crazy. She comes to realise this the day that she hears the beeping of a truck backing up in their street to find that Kara is in the process of helping a man in dusty coveralls facilitate the delivery of a large load of timber.

 

“I’m building you and Babyflower a deck!” She declares, mid-way through transferring the broad planks (in modest armfuls, so as to not raise concern) through the gate leading to their yard as Lena watches on, stunned.

 

“That’s great Kara, but—wait, slow down—what about that perfectly good paved barbeque area we already have?”

 

Kara swung around, missing Lena with the end of a 2x4 by half an inch. “Oh gosh, sorry. I’m building over it. And I’m building a pizza oven! The bricks are being delivered tomorrow.”

 

Lena had found that as far as Kara’s seemingly endless list of DIY projects went, it was best to just stay out of her way. She retreats to the comfort of her frigid living room to do some work, and to attempt to keep herself from watching as Kara marks out the dimensions for her new venture in the sweltering heat.

 

Since the start of her third trimester, temperatures in National City had continued to climb. Lena hadn’t even felt the heat that much when she was living in the city—especially since she was mostly in the temperature-controlled oases of her office or apartment—but in the hills the heat was so intense it felt like she could nearly hold it in her hands. Dry, broiling heat that radiated off of the roads and made the usual song of bugs at night rise to a cacophony.

 

The heat didn’t deter Kara from creating a whirlwind of activity around their property. Lena had a theory that it only encouraged it, if anything—something about the way the sun filled Kara up with even more energy than usual. She’s been restless at night. Their occasional movie marathons had all but disappeared, and Kara had taken to folding endless numbers of origami animals from a neat stack of coloured paper she’d brought home one day (“I’m making a mobile,” she had said) while they watched their Netflix shows to keep her waning attention span occupied.

 

Well, Lena hoped that was why. She hoped it was more to do with her solar-charged cells and less to do with the fact that a few short weeks ago Lena had climbed into her lap and asked her, in so many words, to fuck her.

 

Strangely, the uptick in Kara’s adventures in construction and interior design had coincided with that event. As the days had grown hotter Lena had watched Kara tackle project after project, indoor and outdoor, running up an astronomical tab at their local hardware store. Maybe it was Kara’s way of nesting as their due date loomed ever closer. Whatever it was, it was driving her crazy.

 

It’s not that Kara was leaving a mess around the house, or making too much noise. If anything, she was fastidious. She lay down a comprehensive coverage of drop-cloths and painters tape before she gave the skirting boards and architraves a fresh coat of something called “Antique Snow”, didn’t start power tools until Lena was well and truly awake, and always vacuumed up the drywall powder after installing the arsenal of cute shelves she’d picked up from IKEA.

 

And Lena was really loving the way Kara’s changes looked on their home. She would’ve called it perfect before, but the shutters Kara had installed really did complement the front of the house, and the yard took on a roomy lushness once all the overgrown shrubbery had been stripped back (by Kara’s bare hands, mostly).

 

So no, the problem wasn’t the work itself, it was more how Kara looks when she’s working. Her wardrobe of choice had been borne out of how many shirts she ruined—from tree sap, paint, spackle, varnish. She returned from one of her many trips to the hardware store one day with a pair of coveralls. Men’s coveralls. The arms were far too loose, so, much to Lena’s extreme distress, Kara had torn them off.

 

Work boots, armless coveralls, a tool-belt, and an even layer of dirt, dust, and sweat. Some days she even forewent the top of the coveralls all together, letting it sit open at her hips and leaving her upper half clad in an unfortunately (for Lena’s sake) see-through white sports bra. It was enough to make Lena want to lay out on a platter covered in honey and invite Kara to take a bite.

 

And she did, in her way. All of Kara’s projects were thirsty work, after all. Lena brought her beer, at first, then tall glasses of ginger-lemonade that she made herself and kept a topped-up pitcher of in the refrigerator. So what if she stared at the condensation that ran down Kara’s chest when she pressed the cool drink against her neck? So what if she let her imagination run with images of Kara taking the jug from her hands and pouring it over her muscled body, leaving Lena to deal with the sticky consequences? So what if she sometimes brought the drinks to Kara wearing a gauzy cotton wrap-dress that crossed over _just_ below the still-growing curve of her breasts, leaving ample cleavage on display? It was more comfortable that way, seeing as the days had become so hot. And maybe she still had her suspicions about Kara. She really should leave it alone—she’d been rejected, soundly, and clinging onto some stupid hope that Kara was actually not as straight as she’d asserted herself as being was only going to end in tears. Curiosity killed the cat after all. Still, she remained curious.

 

The night after Kara spends the day making a start on the deck, their TV switches off just before dusk. The whirr of the refrigerator stops, the digital clock on the microwave goes blank. And, of most concern given that they’re in the third day of a heatwave with no end in sight, the comforting hum of their air-conditioning system goes totally quiet.

 

“I think it’s a blackout.” Kara says, flicking the light switch on and off, and Lena groans.

 

“Oh, god. It’s 100 degrees out.“ She’s already running hot because of the extra passenger she’s carrying. Immediately she has an image of herself crammed into a DEO nightshift bunk, or Ruby glaring at her as she gives up her bed for the couch. What a fucking disaster.

 

“It’ll be OK, if we just keep the house shut up it’ll stay cool.” She grabs a torch from the cupboard above the oven. “I’ll go and check the fuse box.”

 

It doesn’t stay cool. By 9, Lena’s sprawled out on the couch, feet up, washcloths across her forehead and chest, wetting the neckline of her t-shirt.

 

“The weather app said the heat will break at 11.” Kara says, tinkering with a battery-powered tealight candle that won’t stay lit.

 

“I’m dying.” Lena hams it up a bit. Times like these called for dramatics.

 

“You’re not dying.” Kara sets the now-functioning tealight on the coffee-table by their discarded game of Scattergories. “Do you want me to fly into the city and get you icecream?”

 

Lena pulls the washcloth over her eyes and shakes her head.

 

“Fly to Antarctica and bring you back an iceburg?”

 

She smiles, and shakes her head again.

 

“Well i—oh my god, Lena. I have the best idea.” Lena picks up the corner of the washcloth and raises an eyebrow at her. “Just, uh, tell me if it’s too cold.”

 

Kara inhales, and blows a delicate wave of frozen breath over in Lena’s general direction, mostly hitting her legs. Goosebumps stand out on her skin. It definitely works to cool the outside of her body, but does nothing but stoke the heat on the inside. Kara’s breath feels like a touch, and she can feel it everywhere.

 

“Again, please.”

 

“Oh, uh, ok.”

 

Another wave, damp and so blissfully cold that Lena can’t help but moan in satisfaction. She also can’t help but notice the pink rising in Kara’s cheeks, the way her eyes keep flicking down to where Lena’s nipples are now straining against her shirt.

 

“Better?”

 

Lena can only nod, and memorise the sensation for later. She’s going with the flow in that respect. Guilt only compounded her sexual frustration, and it was going to be over in a few months anyway. For now, Kara continued to star in Lena’s fantasies of a night, only now they weren’t just a means to an end. She reveled in them, drew things out. It helped her stay sated for longer.

 

“What about you, sprout?” She asks Lena’s belly, a light hand on its highest point. “Kick my hand if you’re doing ok.”

 

“I think she’s doing fine. It’s too hot to be kicking tonight.”

 

Alex had said that the baby would kick between 18 and 25 weeks. It’s their 27th week, and Kara is increasingly antsy, despite Alex’s reassurance that there was nothing wrong and things usually progressed a little slower during first pregnancies. And this wasn’t a typical pregnancy by any means, after all.

 

“Maybe it’s me.” Kara sits back on her heels, folds her hands in her lap. “Maybe she’ll listen to you?”

 

Lena feels a twinge of guilt. Had she even spoken to her own baby yet? Directly, not through Kara? It seemed to come so easy to Kara, like she and her child were already acquainted, like she’d been coming to game nights or working at the DEO or something equally ridiculous for a fetus. Lena had no such ease. She cringed at herself even thinking about it, and that made her heart twist with fear.

 

As if sensing her train of thought, Kara touches her stomach again. “Actually, I think I know how to get you moving.” She nods at Lena. “Kick and we’ll buy you a pony for your birthday.”

 

“Kara, st—”

 

“TWO ponies.” Nothing. “Kick and…I’ll take you flying whenever you want. If you can’t fly, that is. We don’t know that yet.” Nothing. Kara furrows her brow. “Kick and you’ve got first dibs on the TV remote until you move out.”

 

“Don’t listen to her.” Lena says, flustered in the heat and not really thinking about it. “You’ll move when you’re good and ready.”

 

Kara gasps.

 

“Did you feel that?” They both say, nearly in unison. It was barely there, like a muscle in her stomach twitched.

 

“Talk again!” Kara says, practically climbing into her lap in her haste to lay both hands on her bump.

 

Lena searches for what to say. “Looks like I’m gonna be the strict one, then, if you’re that good at listening to me.” Her voice is hesitant, a bit awkward, but after a second…

 

It’s more pronounced this time, a proper stirring, and Kara bursts into joyous laughter.

 

“I felt it! She’s moving! Oh my god!” The baby practically jumps at the sound of Kara’s excited voice, sending her into more delighted giggles. When their eyes meet they’re both a little teary. Kara smiles at her, overflowing with warmth, and rests her cheek against Lena’s stomach, the first time in weeks. It feels like absolution.

\---

Things seem to reshape and escalate in tandem with Lena’s changing body. There are blessings—the baby had _kicked,_ she was really in there, and it never got less amazing to be a part of. But there’s also troubled water in that no matter how much Kara tries to regain control over her powers, she hears Lena masturbating each and every time it happens.

  
It’s enough to draw a person’s will thin. Kara is starting to think on things she never gave the time of day before and the heat isn’t helping. The baby kicking isn’t helping. When she goes to bed on a Tuesday night and hears a familiar needy moan the only thing to do is roll over, put a pillow over her head, and ride it out. Luckily, Lena’s dalliances average about a minute and a half on a slow day.

 

Three minutes later and Kara is losing her mind. As far as she can tell by the wet sounds accompanying the moans, Lena is working herself up. Taking her time. And thinking about Kara, judging by the way she’s saying her name. She wonders if Lena’s thinking about her pulling her underwear to the side, rubbing her clit, using her fingers inside her, or both.

 

It’s a fool's errand to try and deny how turned on she is. Kara doesn’t have the energy for it anymore. She shifts again until she’s on her stomach and moves her hand to cup between her legs. Not stimulating, just putting on pressure to alleviate. Her face she buries into her pillow.

 

Lena’s moans turn into hiccuping, feminine sobs and the dewy sound of her fingers working increases in pace. Kara whines and pitches her hips forward into her hand, she can’t help it anymore than she could stop herself from breathing. The feeling of relief on her center is indescribable, especially after weeks and weeks of resisting the urge to touch herself. It takes every ounce of self-control she has to stop. It’s not right, Lena doesn’t know and can’t consent to Kara getting off to the sound of her nearing orgasm.

 

But after endless nights of this? Something has to give. Maybe she hadn’t realized until now how dire the situation really was for Lena, and can masturbating that much be healthy? Maybe she would get carpal tunnel, and it would be Kara’s fault for being a bad co-parent and a wuss.

 

It occupies her thoughts for much of the next day, so much so that J’onn tells her to go home early after she taps a hole into a stainless-steel table with her pen. Was it really fair for her to get a woman pregnant, and then refuse to help her have sex for the first time if that was really her wish? She wonders this as she stands next to Lena in the kitchen, watching her pour pretzels into a bowl for their nightly double feature. There must be a law against that on the books somewhere. An 18th century one, maybe.

 

Lena is her best friend and now a part of her family. Kara is certain that she’d die for her as soon as she would for the little package she carries with her, and sex seems comparatively tidy, in terms of the long game. Anyway, if it’s just about helping Lena, Kara figures that negates some of the inherent gayness. She’s probably making a bigger deal out of it than need be. Based on what she’d heard, it would take about 5 minutes. And then Lena would feel better and Kara could finally get a good night’s sleep.

 

In an honest moment, Kara might admit that seeing Lena in her wrap dresses and with her bare legs and swollen chest had streamlined this choice. That were it say, Winn who she’d gotten pregnant, or Vasquez, there would be no consideration, just an open and shut case of _no sex_. But Lena has a kind of come-hitherness to her that complicated things, leaves the book open. _Maybe sex_.

 

“Lena.” She says. “Are you still having a sex drive issue?” Lena stops mid-pour and looks at her blankly. Maybe that was too blunt of an approach. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. Stupid question.”

 

Lena opens her mouth as if to follow up but shuts it again just as quick. It doesn’t help that while their home is air-conditioned, there’s still a punishing heat rolling off the hills and cutting through the artificial breeze. Lena wears her second trimester maternity tanks because they ride up on her belly and linen shorts with a wide elastic band leaving her more or less unprotected against Kara’s inquiry.

 

Suddenly her eyebrows shoot up and her free hand flies to her stomach. “She’s having a tumble.” Lena says, and grabs Kara’s hand to press and feel. It’s incredible still as the first time she’d felt it—there’s a whole little human being in there. “This heat has her going as crazy as me. Let’s go sit.”

 

Decided on ignoring Kara’s moment of verbal diarrhea, they sit together on the couch, _The Good Place_ playing in the background as a formality. Kara is shocked they’d made it through _The Killing_ with how aware of Lena’s every move she was. Every shift, every crunch, every little huffy sigh is amplified even without superhearing. Lena pauses the TV and turns to face Kara. “Why did you ask me that? Earlier, I mean.”

 

“I’ve had some time to think about it. I’d be willing to give you a hand, if you still needed help.”

 

Despite the semi-tragic wording, Lena looks as keen as she had that night. She sets the pretzels aside and frets her hands together in her lap. “Listen, I know I was pushy that night, but you really don’t have to—”

 

“I want to.” Kara cuts her off, then amends: “help you. I want to help you.”

 

“Oh.” Lena shifts around on the couch. There’s sweat beading on her temple, matting down the gossamer hairs there, from the heat or their conversation Kara isn’t sure. “Okay, then. Yes, that would be...helpful, thank you.”

 

“Do you have a time you wanted to—”

 

“Now?” Lena clears her throat. “Now would be great. I could, um, go into my bedroom and get ready and you could just...come in, when the episode is over.”

 

“Okay.” Kara agrees. She smiles, and Lena smiles back. Easy, casual. No big deal. Friends helping friends. Kara being a good co-parent. That’s all it is.

\---

She knocks on the door, feeling silly. She’s been in Lena’s room a hundred different times before, barged in without thinking about it. But situation requires more care and a greater sense of give and take. When Lena says _come in,_ she steels herself, twists the knob, and enters.

 

The room is lit by a single bedside lamp, curtains drawn, and Lena is sitting on the edge of the bed wringing her hands. First, before she can do anything, Kara roots herself in the comforting things she sees. A book on Lena’s bedside table marked with a piece of cardboard torn from a cereal box, and that morning’s tea with the bag congealing on a ceramic holder. On the other end table there are stacks of engineering journals and some kind of whirligig. It’s so like her—one side of the bed for business, the other for pleasure—that it reorients Kara, makes her brave again. She’s doing this for Lena, so she can have some relief.

 

“Hi.” Lena says. She’s pulling at the hem of her sleep shorts. Kara moves on autopilot to sit with her, hyperaware of the bed shifting under her weight when she does. Lena grips the fabric tighter.

 

“Hi.” There’s a crooked smile pulling at the corner of Kara’s mouth, and seeing it makes Lena laugh. With one hand, Kara covers Lena’s on her thigh, smoothing it out before interlocking their fingers. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Nervous.” Lena admits. “But less so because it’s you.”

 

Kara’s heart rises like a balloon. Being able to do things for Lena that nobody else can, like comforting her, or making her sandwiches exactly the way she likes them, or _helping_ her, makes Kara want to thump her chest in pride. On instinct, she brings Lena’s hand to her mouth and kisses the back of it. “We can stop any time you want.”

 

“I know.” Lena sighs, eyes closed. She scoots up on the bed and reclines until she’s flat on her back, dark hair haloed on the pillows. She has a vulnerable look like that, on her back open and trusting. Kara hopes that her face is more schooled than her feelings.

 

“Do you want, um.” Kara pauses. “Music, or something?”

 

“No. But would you mind if I turned out the light?”

 

“Go ahead.” Lena turns and pulls the chain on her lamp, bathing them in darkness. Kara sometimes forgot how pitch black it could get in the hills. No city lights meant that when you closed your curtains you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. For a moment the only sound between them is the chirping of cicadas outside and the rustle of leaves as a hard gust of wind blows through. “Is this okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Kara breathes. Without sight, she depends on sound to parse out what’s happening. By the rustling of fabric beside her, Lena must be taking off her sleep shorts. That suspicion is confirmed when she hears them hit the floor beside her. Kara tries not to think about what a vision Lena must make, on her back in naught but a pair of underwear and a T-shirt. She puts her hand on her leg, just above her knee, and finds them spread.

 

Lena sighs when Kara moves her palm up one stretch, then two. She can feel Lena’s skin smooth underneath her attention, all the places the razor missed when she’d shaved that morning. Every inch is a new kind of topography. Kara hates herself for thinking that she could do this for hours, just feel her way around Lena’s body with blind affection. This isn’t about that. This is about the burden of assistance.

 

The higher she goes the harder Lena breathes. By the time she’s reached the apex of her thighs, hand lingering in the cleft between her leg and her sex, Lena is shaking like a leaf. Kara is ashamed to find that she isn’t faring any better. “Are you okay?” She asks Lena, asks herself.

 

From the darkness: “Yes.”

 

Her underwear is still on, so Kara slips her fingers beneath it. Propping herself on one elbow, she leans down to press a kiss on Lena’s shoulder, help ease her as she parts her folds and runs the tip of her pointer and middle fingers from the base all the way over her clit. It’s not such an unfamiliar feeling. Lena is sort of wet, it catches and spreads with her hand. Her body tenses beside Kara’s, and she can imagine her hands clenched into fists. “Still good?”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

“Okay.” Scraping together courage that she doesn’t have, Kara moves her fingers down to Lena’s entrance. One circles around it, the way she likes to do with herself, then dips in to the first knuckle. Lena makes no sound and by Kara’s estimation is holding her breath. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re kind of, um. Tight.”

 

“I’m fine.” Lena says in a clenched voice. “Just keep going.”

 

Kara sees two paths to go down. She could listen to Lena and keep going, press her fingers in and probably still help her finish within 5 minutes. But Lena seems nervous and...tense. It’s not like Kara has imagined this exact scenario in her head hundreds of times, but when people enjoy sex, don’t they moan? Hadn’t Lena cried out her name in ecstasy just a day ago doing the same thing?

 

The obvious answer is that she’s not being helpful enough. Kara can’t imagine a reason why she would rush though something that’s so important to her friend. It doesn’t feel right. And all Kara wants is to do right by Lena. She removes her finger, feeling Lena stiffen beside her, and slips her hand from inside her underwear.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“This isn’t right.” Kara says. Lena deflates discernibly. “Can you turn on the lamp?”

 

When light floods the room again, Lena is propped on her elbows, eyes downcast. Kara keeps her hand on the inside of her thigh, firm to hold her from running. “You’re right. It isn’t working. We should just forget about it and—”

 

“Lena.” Kara murmurs, giving her leg a squeeze. “That’s not what I’m saying. We’re just going about it the wrong way. Lay back down?” Lena eyes her, then twists to turn the lamp off again. “Don’t. Leave it on. I want to see you.”

 

On her back again, Lena places both of her hands on her chest, folding them over her heart. Her knees are up, bent, and pressed together. Kara’s first urge is to part them and part them she does, placing her hand on the closest knee and nudging. Lena brokers no resistance and lets them cleave before falling flat onto the bed. Kara is captivated by the image, slightly open and giving her an obstructed view of her green underwear. “Can you spread them more?”

 

She scoots over to give Lena room while she widens her stance and moves her knees back up. Kara has to choke back a moan looking at her like that, knowing Lena is looking at her too. With hands more confident than she feels, Kara reaches out and touches the tips of her fingers where her hand once rested at the very top of her inner thigh. Then, with excruciating slowness, she drags them down all the way to Lena’s knee.

 

It’s like magic. Lena’s eyes close, her mouth falls open, and her hands unclench on her chest. On the second drag, back up toward where her pussy is covered by the fabric of her underwear, she moans. Low and throaty and perfect. Kara continues the soft touches, each time going to her knee, then coming back to dance around the place Lena wants them the most, until Lena has to cover her face to conceal the noises that she’s making. Each one makes Kara more out of control than the last.

 

“Take off your shirt.” She says in a voice that doesn’t sound like her own. Lena uncovers herself and looks at her in surprise.

 

“You don’t have to. I think it’d be good now.”

 

Kara can’t hear her over the fantasy loop of Lena’s breasts bouncing out of her bra playing in her head. “I want this to be good for you. I want to be good at helping you.” Something passes over Lena’s face in that moment, but she tempers it down. She reaches for the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head with only a little difficulty.

 

Kara’s eyes zero in on Lena’s chest like there’s a target drawn on it. She’s wearing some bralette that they’d probably bought at Target together. It’s definitely the kind that you could remove at a moment’s notice to nurse a baby. Kara’s brow furrows in consternation. “Take that off too.” This time there’s no protest out of Lena. She removes the fabric and throws it to the side of the bed, watching Kara’s expression the whole time.

 

Boobs are amazing. Kara can’t believe that this is the first time she’s realizing it, but it’s true. Seeing Lena’s contained in various scenarios, in sports bras and ill-fitting tank tops and T-shirts with no bra is nothing compared to just seeing them. She wants to bury her entire face there, then she remembers that’s the whole point, so she does.

 

With so little finesse that it’s almost embarrassing, she moves forward with the intent of sucking one of Lena’s nipples into her mouth. When her lips brush the outer curve of her breast she sighs, reminds herself to take this slow too, for Lena’s sake. Her mouth opens and she tastes the skin there, pressing more kisses around until she finally lands against the pebbled skin of a nipple. Lena cries out when she pulls it into her mouth, broken and ugly, and Kara extends it by reaching with her other hand to cup her neglected breast. There’s such a beautiful library of sounds that she can make, and Kara is thrilled to find that she was right about her being loud. She flicks her thumb over a nipple and feels the resulting keen deep inside of her.

 

“Kara.” Lena grunts, gripping at the back of her hair and pulling her head back to look up. She looks a mess. It’s hard to be judgmental. Kara figures she’s probably cross-eyed and has a mouth slick with her own spit. “You can touch me now. I’m ready.”

 

Judging by the state of her underwear, yeah, she’s ready. There’s a dark spot soaked into the crotch that’s actually expanding before her eyes and Kara can’t stop looking at it. Another thing she loves? Being good at things. Helping people out. Helping out her best friend. But she feels like she can do better. And if she can, she should. For Lena’s sake.

 

“What if I used my mouth.” She blurts, not taking her eyes off Lena’s underwear. “Would that help?”

 

Lena looks like she’s fighting through a fog to be able to answer the question. “Used your mouth where?”

 

“You know where.” Kara breathes. “I could go down on you. If it would help.”

 

Lena collapses back onto the bed and re-covers her face. “God, yes. You can do whatever you want to me.”

 

Satisfied with that answer, and the knowledge that she’s helping Lena, Kara makes quick work of her underwear. The other woman lifts her hips as they come down her legs before settling back into the bed, face covered, legs spread, and naked. Her chest is still spit slick from Kara’s mouth and calling out to her for more, but that can come later.

 

The thought crosses her mind that the sight is almost painfully erotic. She buries it deep and shuffles off the bed to negotiate a more comfortable position. “Come to the edge.” She says, kneeling there. “It’ll be easier.”

 

She almost regrets her words when Lena does slide her body down the mattress to rest in front of Kara’s face. Because it’s just _there_ in all of its glory, wet and off-pink and swollen so that its broken itself apart. She drags her eyes over the patches of darker, chalky skin on her inner thighs and inky hairs dotting everywhere. Kara has to remind herself that this is supposed to be off-putting and squeeze her eyes shut, reaching out to wrap her arms around Lena’s thighs and hook them around her shoulders.

 

Nobody’s ever done this to her before but she’s seen it done and therefore feels that she can at least work Lena up with it. She brings her face close and drags her nails down the curve of one thigh, resulting in an honest to God yell. Lena’s whole body seizes and she yells again, louder, when Kara’s tongue first touches her clit. That chest thumping pride is back and she dives in with abandon, holding Lena against her face with two arms wrapped around her legs. It’s a testament to her newfound strength that Kara actually has to exert some will to do it and it’s a testament to Kara that Lena squirms and thrashes on the bed, trying to grind her hips closer into her face.

 

It’s surreal. Kara realizes how surface skimming her conception of what would happen was. It didn’t involve Kara’s face buried all the way into Lena’s cunt, nor Lena using one hand to prop herself up while the other braced in Kara’s hair to keep her head in place. And she certainly didn’t predict the way Lena’s keening would increase in frequency and pitch as she got closer to _something—_ it never sounded quite like that when she touched herself—so when she quiets for a moment and tenses, and Kara tastes something extra on the flat of her tongue, it comes as a surprise.

 

She lifts her head knowing that her face is a slick mess from her cheeks to her chin. When she thinks about it, that all of that is evidence of Lena’s enjoyment, it sends a thrill through her body. Lena is still propped on her arm blinking down at her with glassy, blown out eyes and hair wild around her face. Her hand has eased up on its grip but still rests on the back of Kara’s head. “I’m sorry.” She says. “Did you not want—in your mouth? I couldn’t help it.”

 

The question is absurd. Kara is hot with gratification and a long ways from anger. And with Lena like she is, roughed up and kind of crazed and looking like maybe Kara hasn’t unwound her all the way, like she still has something to finish, it twists in Kara. Whatever is left of her command on the situation is being chipped away and leaving a raw need in its wake.

 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Kara says, sitting up straighter on her knees. She’s shocked by how much she means it, how much she’d liked it. She’s shocked by how pretty Lena looks from this angle. Her body is brimming with it like that night the power’d gone out and all that heat had nowhere to go. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Kara thinks Lena might have been waiting for that question because she’s leaning forward before the words are out of her mouth. Their lips meet in the middle and they exchange two absurdly chaste kisses that still manage to land like a punch in the gut. “Was that okay? Do you still need—”

 

Kara can’t finish her sentence because Lena is going back in tongue-first, which should be a deal breaker but it isn’t. Their mouths come together open and needy and clashing, finally breaking open something frantic. While Lena cups her cheek and pulls her in for a series of kisses, Kara wraps an arm around her hips and slips a hand between them and finally, finally comes to finish what she’d started before.

 

Two fingers slip in without Kara meaning them to. Lena cries into her open mouth, says “Do another.” and when Kara uses a third her hips start to jump in tandem with the motion of her wrist. Kara has to wonder if this is what sex was supposed to be all along—filthy, uncoordinated, fun. Lena’s body a beautiful blur of motion against her, interrupting their kiss when her exaltation becomes too much to contain. Kara was always so self-conscious before but now can’t bring herself to have any emotion beyond the conflicting urges to bring Lena over the edge and to stay buried inside of her for as long as possible.

 

She drives in particularly hard and earns a strangled gasp from Lena. It’s too much, then. Kara is too far lost in the motion of their bodies together. “Say my name.” Lena blinks back at her, dazed. “Say it.” She does. In a hitched voice, eyes unfocused but never leaving Kara’s face. Lena holds her in place by her cheeks, makes sure Kara is looking at her too.

 

Her orgasm starts as a silent clutch of Kara’s body, peaks in a broken scream, and rolls downward into a series of ‘oh fuck, oh God’ and ‘what the fuck’s. “Don’t pull away yet.” Lena says when she’s finished, collapsed boneless against Kara. Her knees ache from the hardwood floor, but she wouldn’t dare. “You don’t think that hurt the baby, do you?”

 

“I think she’s fine.” Kara murmurs into Lena’s shoulder, rubbing her cheek into it. “Are you...was that good?”

 

Lena laughs. “It was amazing. You really have a knack for it.”

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

In the quiet, Lena’s fingers stir at the nape of Kara’s neck and start to stroke there. It’s comforting. At first. Then they’re tracing patterns onto her skin, and her other hand is running through Kara’s hair, and something is stretching awake in Kara. “Why don’t you lay down on the bed.” Lena murmurs in her ear, then separates them by a degree. Kara looks down and can see herself still buried three knuckles inside her, and a thin string of arousal that connects her pussy to a dark wet stain on Kara’s T-shirt. “I want to return the favor.” As she speaks, her muscles twitch around Kara’s hand.

 

It’s the verbal equivalent of a smash cut back into reality. Kara comes to her body all at once and takes stock of her painful arousal. She imagines Lena taking care of her with her hands, her mouth. Fucking her like that. It becomes not about Lena, her pregnancy, or how her body had changed, but about Kara and wanting Lena to bend her over the bed until she’s satiated.

 

Mild panic rocks her body. She removes her fingers, trying to ignore Lena’s whine of disapproval, and puts on her best disaffected smile. “No, I’m fine. I’m not really—into that. With girls.”

 

“Oh.” Lena stares at her wide-eyed. “Of course.”

 

There’s irony to be had in the fact that the evidence of how deep into Lena she’d just been is all over her hand and shirt. Self-conscious of it, she wipes at her mouth and then leans up to plant one last kiss on Lena’s lips. It feels like the polite thing to do. Lena still looks shell-shocked when they part. “Do you want to watch a show or something?” Preferably sitting not-touching on the couch. Kara can’t be too close to her but going back to her room alone feels just as dangerous.

 

“I’m actually pretty tired. But you’re welcome to stay in here tonight.” Lena has never been good at sounding casual. She’s even less so sitting on a bed completely naked. As if hearing Kara’s thoughts, she grabs a throw from behind her and wraps it around her shoulders.

 

“I think I’d better go.”

 

Once the door is closed behind her, she turns around and presses her back into it, mouthing _shit_ and running a hand through her hair. Her underwear is soaked, her groin is on fire, and she needs to google whether or not letting come dry on your face will make you break out. Kara makes it back to her bedroom in a sprint and grabs off her clothes first thing. The shorts and underwear she chucks into the laundry hamper. Her shirt goes on the floor by the bed.

 

A shower doesn’t help. Nor does listening to 15 minutes of the first podcast about murder that shows up on her iTunes. Laying in bed, window open for the cold breeze, Kara repeats to herself the list of increasingly frail reasons why it’s totally normal to be so turned on by having sex with your best friend that you can’t fall asleep.

 

The most natural thing to do would be to touch herself. But something about it smacks of defeat, of an admission that she has to make that she’s not ready for.

 

She figures that the first thing to do other than that would be to change her mindset. Closing her eyes and rolling onto her stomach, Kara imagines the least sexual things she can think of. Winn in a speedo at the beach. J’onn being forced to say the word penis during charades. Lena’s wet center, pressed against her stomach while she came around three of Kara’s fingers.

 

Her eyes fly open and drift down to the shirt, still bearing the mark from earlier. Without thinking, she picks it up and puts it next to her on the bed. Just to have. In case she gets chilly later. She resumes her mantra.

 

Alex eating a sloppy joe. Ruby asking her what menstruation is. Finding Eliza’s vibrator in her nightstand drawer when she was 13. Lena’s voice saying _you can do whatever you want to me._

 

She has two fingers inside of herself before she has a good handle on what’s happening. And her face is buried in that T-shirt, into that God forsaken stain, and it still smells like sex and Lena and the things they’d done to each other and the things they’d still yet to do. That’s what she’s thinking of when she comes, defeated and muffling her cries into the fabric. Lena’s face and body warm around her hand.

\---

Kara wasn’t sure how she was expecting to feel, exactly. She wakes up the next morning naked in a bed with a come stained shirt clutched in one hand like an alcoholic after a bender of Ol Grandad. Her window is still open leaving her room smelling fresh and a little chilly.

 

She takes another shower, a long one, and soaps her entire body. Her face, her shoulders, between her legs. Where there would usually be constant running monologue which lately has consisted of excuses and roundabout explanations, there’s silence. Some things are just inexplicable. What had happened last night existed beyond the reaches of Kara’s reasoning. Instead of trying to tease it out, she shuts the door on it. Tightly. And she tries to focus on the tangible.

 

The tangible includes the sound of Lena shuffling around in the kitchen when she turns off the water. Living with Lena has made Kara wonder how she’d ever lived alone. She doesn’t even register it as anything at first, but knowing on a subconscious level that Lena is out there, getting ready for her day, brings her unspeakable comfort.

 

Pots and pans clatter. Kara emerges into the kitchen to see Lena, already dressed, trying to reach into an upper shelf. She has to stifle a laugh.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Lena startles like a fawn and turns around. For a moment Kara expects to see her as she was last night, swollen-mouthed and spoiled. In actuality she’s coiffed with not a hair on her head out of place. It’s enough of a difference to make Kara wonder briefly if last night really happened or was some kind of pervert fantasy.

 

Then, through an opening at the chest of Lena’s popover shirt, she sees the smallest beginnings of a bruise. The door creaks open and she has to shut it again, firmer. “Hi. I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just—going to try my hand at French toast.”

 

“Can’t reach the frying pan? Need a little help from Supergirl?”

 

“Shut up.” Lena is smiling. This is fine. Kara repeats those three words in her head, a mantra filling the strangely quiet void, and moves behind Lena. Their small height difference gives her enough of an advantage to reach up and grip the pan, bringing it down in front of them.

 

This is so, so fine. Her front is against Lena’s back. She hasn’t moved. The pan is on the counter but her hand is still gripping the handle. Kara isn’t prepared for Lena’s to cover it, not for her to speak softly. As if by whispering she could keep her words a secret from herself.

 

“Kara, last night…”

 

“I know.” Kara says. The hand on top of hers squeezes.

 

“I feel different.” Lena’s voice although quiet is cracking. Kara has to squeeze her eyes shut and count backwards from ten. The door stays closed. It stays locked. Her only answer is to cheat them both out of this conversation with a brief kiss on the cheek. A punctuation mark. She feels what might be a flinch from Lena.

 

“You’d usually be at work right now. What gives?” She disengages and moves to the pot to pour herself a coffee. Lena already has it brewed. Four cups, exactly the amount Kara drinks in the morning, and her favorite mug set out next to it.

 

“I decided to work from home today.”

 

Kara’s eyebrows shoot up and she regards Lena over the rim of her mug. “All day?” Lena hums in the affirmative, rummaging around for the rest of her supplies. Lena hasn’t spent all day at home since—well, ever. “Is this going to be like, a thing?”

 

“Don’t push it. I just woke up with a sore back this morning.”

 

“Awe, Lena.” Without thinking, Kara sets her cup on the counter and moves over. She presses her hand against the small of Lena’s back, where she imagines the ache might be, just like she would’ve before last night. Lena’s body is hot under the fabric of her shirt. “Do you need me to heat you up a sock or something?”

Hands stilled, Lena shakes her head. She’s smiling. “I’m just not used to being on my back for so long, is all.”

 

Kara doesn’t stay to see what becomes of Lena’s french toast experiment. She kicks on her loafers (normal), gives Lena a kiss on the cheek and the baby a kiss on what she hopes is her cheek (normal), and flies out the mud room door with her glasses half askew on her face and her briefcase hanging limply from one hand. As soon as she’s outside Kara takes deep gulps of air as if emerging from underwater and presses a hand up and over her forehead. When her arm lifts, she notices a sweat stain on the cotton fabric under it.

 

“Shoot.” She mutters to herself, shuffling down the walkway. “Shoot shoot shoot shoot.”

 

Her phone chimes before she’s opened the door of the car—from Lena. _Hey, I left some papers in the boot that I need to give to Jess mind dropping them off with her today?_ It goes officially on Kara’s to-do list for lunch. Flying them over won’t take more than a minute.

 

“Miss Danvers.” Jess looks up in surprise when Kara comes down the hallway, waving the folder of papers in front of her. “What a surprise.” Her tone implies that it might not be a happy one. Kara’s brows furrow and release. Maybe she just hasn’t had her coffee today.

 

“Special delivery! Lena wanted me to drop these off.” She places the papers on Jess’s desk with flourish. The other woman looks down at them, then back up to Kara, and down at the papers again.

 

“Thank you. How is Ms. Luthor feeling?”

 

“Oh, fine.” Kara chuckles and adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Just a little back pain. We just got her that super orthopedic chair for her home office, so, you know. Well, I guess it’s not really an office. It’s a nook in our living room but I like to watch her work so—”

 

“Ms. Danvers.” Jess cuts her off, looking hard-faced. Kara fights back the urge to call her Ma’am. “If that’s quite all?”

 

“Oh. Sure, Jess, that’s all.” Rebuffed, Kara turns on her heel to exit the office. She’s stopped by the sound of Jess clearing her throat behind her and pivots back around.

 

“Ms. Luthor,” Jess begins, eyeing Kara over the frames of her glasses. Kara realizes that she’s sweating again. “Is a very special woman.”

 

Kara pales. “She...sure is. She’s very, very special. To me. And um, other people too. I’m sure.”

 

“She could date any woman she wanted. Even with a baby.”

 

Cold fear runs down Kara’s spine. How had Jess figured out what happened last night? Did Lena tell her? That felt unlikely. Had she just sensed it? Was it on some kind of meeting minutes sheet? “Look, Jess, what happened last night was—”

 

Jess scrunches her face. “Last night? What happened last night?”

 

“Uh! Nothing.” Kara chuckles nervously. “We ate dinner and went to bed. Alone. In our separate bedrooms. Hey, is that your phone ringing?”

 

By the time Jess glances back up Kara is gone in a gust of wind.

\---

The house is quiet when she comes in, no shuffling, no Bonnie Raitt, no nothing. Shoes go under the sideboard, next to Lena’s extra support runners and her Muk Luks. Soon they’ll shift back to her work shoes, heels and designer flats with her pantyhose crumpled in a little ball on the floor because she couldn’t wait to peel them off her legs. Then there’ll be other, smaller shoes, and a stroller crowding the front door for easy access. The stroller is already waiting in the nursery, unpacked because Kara was too excited to let it languish in its box. This is her life now, her partner, her baby, her stroller that cost as much as the Prius in the driveway.

 

Her heart is already full when she peers into the living room to see Lena’s back and her hair up in a bun revealing the skin at the base of her neck. She’s working on a touch screen tablet at her nook, moving some 3D model around with her finger. Kara can see the chipped blue nail polish there, thinks that she’ll probably spend a night later this week removing and then re-doing them. Lena says she’s better at it than her, even though she hasn’t done it herself since she was a little girl.

 

“Hey.” Kara says. Lena’s head turns, smiling already. She twists and rubs at the back of her neck, rolls her shoulders. Kara is moving across the room, her hands are on Lena’s shoulders, squeezing and watching her head drop forward against her chest. “Be honest, have you left this spot since breakfast?”

 

Lena hums. “A girl’s gotta eat.” There are several crumb-covered plates next to her on the desk, a half-eaten bag of veggie chips. Kara struggles against the urge to press a kiss on the back of her neck. “I think I have to call it, though. My eyes are killing me.”

 

“Music to my ears. Do you need something from the kitchen?”

 

“A snack?” Lena asks hopefully. “And a new rice sock?”

 

This time, Kara does kiss her. On her cheek. Well within the limits of the safe zone that they’d established and violated so thoroughly the night before. “How ‘bout a movie?”

 

“Music to my ears.”

 

Kara loves their kitchen. She loves the over-the-sink window, she loves the mixing bowl Lena’d left soaking from that morning, and their over-the oven microwave, and cutting little pieces of cheddar cheese to put on a plate for them to snack on before dinner, and the copy of the _Joy of Cooking_ next to their flour jar. There’s the hum of the sock heating and Kara’s stealing a piece of cheese for herself and Lena is clicking through the TV, yawning. Their domestic snow globe, turned to make some kind of little magic happen.

 

“Have you ever seen the first _Alien_?” Lena asks when she comes back in, hitting the kitchen light. She’s sitting with her legs crossed on the couch, blanket already over her lap. “With Sigourney Weaver?”

 

“Uh-uh.” Kara says as she crashes next to her, handing her the tied-off sock and plate. Lena places one on the small of her back, hissing with pleasure, and throws a piece of cheese into her mouth before setting the plate on the coffee table. “Have you?”

 

“No. Wanna?”

 

Sigourney Weaver kicks ass. And her haircut is definitely potent. There’s something about her in that jumpsuit, and then in the tank top, muscles out and dirty with exertion, it plucks something in Kara. “Dang.” She says. “Maybe we should name the baby Ripley.” When she looks over Lena is biting her nail.

 

Lena seems to be strung on a razor-thin thread from the minute the beginning credits start. When the creature attaches itself to Kane’s face, she actually screams. Lena Luthor, who didn’t bat an eyelash during _Silence of the Lambs._ She yells and clings to Kara’s arm, causing a traitorous twist in her lower belly.

 

When the alien bursts out of his chest Lena averts her gaze and grapples for the remote, turning the TV off. “Lena?” Kara looks at her, puzzled. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Have you ever thought about giving birth?”

 

This gives Kara pause. She actually hadn’t given much of any thought to the actual birthing process and when she thinks of it now, she blushes. Most of her fantasizing had to do with what they would do with the baby once she was here, the shoes and the strollers and the tiny hats.

 

“Not really.”

 

Lena sighs and puts her head in her hands, and Kara realizes that she’s a huge asshole. Of course her friend would be preoccupied with birth. She’s about to do it, after all, and to a possibly indestructible alien baby with her very human—

 

Kara flushes again and decides not to start down that path. It’s easier if she just pretends that she never saw it. Or was inside of it. On instinct, she grabs for Lena and pulls her against her own body, finding the other woman pliant. “I’m sorry. I can see how that would be—a little scary.”

 

“It’s terrifying.” Lena protests, her voice muffled by Kara’s shirt. “Online they said that I could accidentally poop on her, or that my vagina could tear open.”

 

“I’m sure she wouldn’t remember if you did.” Kara blanches. “Tear open?”

 

“And I still don’t...” Lena pulls away, tugging uselessly at her shirt. “I’m still not used to the idea that I’m going to have her. She’s moving around a lot now, and she can hear me talking, but I still feel—What if I’m a terrible mother? It’s coming so easy for you. I want it to be easy for me too.”

 

Lena looks, for the first time since Kara has known her, young enough to be her age. Sometimes in her expensive pencil skirts and urbane manner you could mistake her for someone much older. But she’s 25. Young to be a CEO, young to have almost no family, young to be a mother. Kara likes this side of her in a perverse kind of way. It’s like being allowed to read somebody’s secret diary.

 

“You’re going to be an amazing mother. I’ve never doubted that for a second.” Lena doesn’t look up at her. “But if you’re feeling unsure maybe...we could go to a Lamaze class, or to a birthing coach or something? Learning some stuff not on the internet might ease your mind. And we could spend some quality time with her before she comes out all fully cooked.”

 

Kara watches as Lena smooths a hand over her belly, biting her lip. Reaching out, Kara’s hand joins hers. “Can I ask you something else?” Lena hums, still looking at her baby bump, at their hands resting protectively over it. “What do you think about giving the baby an Irish name? I know we haven’t talked about names at all, and we don’t know the gender—”

 

“It’s going to be a girl.”

 

“—right. But I think it would be nice. For her to have a piece of you as well.”

 

Something warm materializes next to Kara’s splayed fingers. It’s Lena’s hand brushing her own, pinky coming to link with Kara’s pinky. Kara thinks of their perfect house and their perfect kitchen, and their soon to be perfect baby. Their genes, perfect for one another’s. She and Lena are family no matter what, inexplicable feelings and ill-advised sexual encounters notwithstanding.

 

“Okay, Kara.” Lena says. There’s something else vibrating under her words, as if it’s a code she’s hoping Kara will be able to crack. Not right now, but maybe someday.

 ---

Lena spirals into her third trimester. She sees Alex once a week for ultrasounds because, quote: “The squirt is viable now and things could go funny at any moment.” They all come back with mundane results, including this one. Ruby is in the exam room working on math homework while Alex washes her hands at the sink.

 

“You’re good to go, Lena, if you want to head back.” She says over her shoulder. “As always I recommend bed rest but I’m sure you won’t listen.”

 

“You know me.” Lena chuckles, pivoting her legs around the side of the exam table and pulling her shirt back over her belly. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if Ruby wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a minute.”

 

“I would.” Ruby says. Alex shoots her a look.

 

“I really don’t like her being out there unattended and J’onn can’t keep a handle on her. Can we talk later?”

 

Lena takes a deep breath. “Actually, it’s fine. Ruby can stay. I just wanted to talk about earlier when I told you about my...pregnancy sugar cravings, and you told me to...find somebody to bake with.” Alex freezes in the middle of drying her hands and slowly turns to look at Lena, then Ruby, who’s tapping away at her laptop.

 

“Oh?” Alex manages in a strained voice. Lena swallows.

 

“Yeah. I took your advice and went to Kara and we...baked together.”

 

Alex’s face is unreadable. “Is that so.” She finishes drying her hands and leans against the counter, crossing her arms “I’m sorry, you mean my Kara? You and her? Baked cookies?”

 

“Yeah. Like, 3 or 4 of them?”

 

“Why would you only make 4 cookies? That’s stupid.” Ruby chimes, not looking up from her homework. Alex nods.

 

“You’re right Ruby. It’s stupid. I’m going to regret asking, but who...” Alex makes a garbled face. “...did most of the baking?”

 

“Kara. I offered to...help bake, but she said no.”

 

“Okay, listen. In all honesty I have this suspicion that Kara might be a professional baker.”

 

Lena’s brow furrows. “A what?”

 

“A—Ruby, cover your ears and hum. Yes I’m serious—a _lesbian.”_ Even though Alex whispers the word over Ruby’s humming, it has an impact. Lena has butterflies in her stomach that aren’t from the baby kicking. “Between you and me, she’s always hated her boyfriends and one time I leant her my laptop for a month and when she gave it back it was full of viruses from all these weird lesbian wrestling porn videos she was watching. You can uncover your ears Ruby.”

 

“Well, she did really seem to enjoy...tasting the cookie dough.”

 

“God, what? Hork.” Alex makes a retching motion and throws her hands up. “I don’t know if you’re asking for my advice or just trying to take me out once and for all, but Kara grew up in a very different world than this one. I think she’s always just assumed she would only love chocolate chip cookies and is now maybe realizing that she actually just wants red velvet. That’s a big adjustment for anyone, but I assume moreso for a literal alien.”

 

“You’re probably right.” Lena agrees, bobbing her head. Things are so complicated with the baby and Kara’s feelings she’s not sure if she sees an easy solution, and she’s sure Alex can’t provide one for her. She gathers her purse and jacket and prepares to leave, but Alex stops her before she can.

 

“Lena wait. Ruby, cover your ears again.”  The sound of humming fills the room. Alex leans in conspiratorially. “Congrats on the sex, I knew you had it in you.”

\---

After some Google research from Kara and thorough vetting from Lena and Alex, they go to a Lamaze class that weekend. The National City Cooperative Women’s Center used to be a police station decades ago, according to a plaque Kara reads out loud in the shaded courtyard in front of the building, all functional old brick with some art deco flair around the doorways and windows. Children’s laughter and an unorganized clamor of instruments filters out to them through the walls. It’s peaceful, and Kara’s picked up on Lena’s chronic punctuality after living with her for this many weeks so they have some time to kill. She watches Lena in the dappled sunlight, one hand resting on her belly and the other tracing the shiny blue tiles of a mosaicked sky on the front wall.

 

“Very second wave.” Lena comments, gesturing to a pair of interlinked venus symbols painted on the ramp leading up to the door in bright purple paint, the words “ALL GODDESSES WELCOME” painted below it. Someone inside lets out a particularly loud, happy squeal. Lena looks over at Kara, smiles at her. “I like it.”

 

The vibe of the waiting room is just as welcoming, a humidifier on the cluttered reception desk puffing out lavender scented steam. Kara feels at ease straight away in the organized chaos of the space, and senses some of Lena’s nervousness drain away once she gets her bearings. Judging by skeptical way she regards some sort of opaque crystal she picks up from the counter, however, her guard is still somewhat up.

 

They sit beside a woman and her small son and Lena gets to work on filling in the form, resting the clipboard on her baby bump. Kara fidgets with the top button on her shirt and looks around—at the cluttered box of toys in the corner of the room, at the rows of pamphlets hanging from the wall, at the small statuettes of pregnant woman made from wood and clay that seem to cover every available surface, and finally at the tiny foot in an equally tiny Nike sneaker that suddenly appears in her lap.

 

“Will you tie this for me?”

 

“Honey, that’s not very polite.” The mother of the little sneaker’d boy says in a gentle voice, smiling at Kara apologetically. “How about you say ‘please’?”

 

“Oh, okay. Will you tie this for me _please_?” He looks up at Kara with big brown eyes and shakes his foot so the laces bounce. To her right, she hears Lena’s stifle a laugh.

 

“Sure thing buddy! What’s your name?”

 

“My name’s Malik and I’m four.” Malik is painfully cute and dressed in an outfit strikingly similar to Kara’s, only his shirt has tiny dinosaurs printed on it instead of arrows and there’s a grass stain on one knee of his joggers.

 

“Four? You’re practically all grown up! I’m Kara and I’m twenty-seven, and this is Lena, she’s twenty-five.” She starts to make bunny ears with his laces. “Do you want a double knot?”

 

Malik ignores her and gasps, pointing at Lena. “Is there a baby in there?”

 

Lena looks up from the form and grins at him. “There is, yes.”

 

“Is it your baby too? Thank you for my shoe.” He lifts his foot from Kara’s lap and starts untying the laces on his other shoe with great difficulty.

 

“Sure is.”

 

“Cool. My friend Jordan has two moms. She always has the yummiest stuff at snack.” Kara sees herself making lunch for three instead of two—sandwiches, granola bars, yoghurt. She sees a small hand stealing a cherry tomato from where she’s packed them into a ziplock bag, see’s Lena’s graceful one doing the same. There’s a simple wedding band on her ring finger. She blinks the thought away.

 

With one shoe untied, Malik walks around Kara and taps Lena on the knee. “Can you do my other shoe please?”

 

“I can do that one if you want buddy, I think Lena’s busy filling out—”

 

“No, I can do it.” Lena cuts in, looking unsure. “Come and sit here uh, buddy.”

 

Lena hands Kara the clipboard and pats the chair beside her. Malik clambers up and offers her his foot.

 

“Did, um, did Kara do two bunny ears?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“I’ll do it the special way, then.” Kara gives her an encouraging smile when she looks over at her. “But it’s a secret, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Kara watches them—watches the way Lena shows Malik how to “loop it, swoop it, pull it through” as many times as he asks for, watches how she leans down to speak to him, watches the way her eyes light up when he tries it himself and gets it the first go. If you didn’t know her, you’d think that all this came naturally to Lena. The mother of her child, their child. Kara blazes with pride and feels the anticipation of their life together stretching out in front of her acutely, down to the very quick of her.

 

Malik and his mom get called into the pediatrician’s office and slowly the waiting room fills with expecting couples. She and Lena are one out of five two-mom teams. They all seem pretty familiar with each other, and she feels Lena move closer to her side, shrinking a little. When Kara lays her arm on the back of Lena’s chair her shoulders visibly relax. She resists the urge to puff out her chest. Protecting Lena always makes her feel big, on the inside and on the outside, and safe.

 

The room where the class is held smells like lavender too, and the couples sit in an arc facing the whiteboard affixed with diagrams of pelvises and cervixes and vulvae, “WELCOME BIRTH WARRIORS” in blue marker below them. The first session is just information, nothing practical yet. The woman leading the class is calm and capable, long grey hair and a burgundy wrap dress that swishes when she walks. Her voice turns out to be a problem. It’s soothing, too soothing, soft and verging on monotone.

 

Kara feels her eyelids start to droop about ten minutes in.

 

The room itself is warm, as is the comforting weight of Lena sitting between her legs, resting against her with her head tucked under Kara’s chin. Her sweet-smelling hair makes her feel sleepy too, reminds her of bed and nighttime. _Don’t fall asleep_ , she wills herself, _Don’t fall asleep, don’t fall asleep_. She looks around to find something to distract herself and ends up looking right down Lena’s shirt before flicking her eyes away. _Don’t fall asleep and don’t stare at Lena’s boobs, you weirdo._

 

“Now, I wanna talk a bit about vaginal tearing.” Kara perks up to pay attention and feels Lena stiffen against her. She squeezes her hand and Lena squeezes back. The instructor makes prayer hands and presses them against her lips, as if collecting herself. Kara can practically feel Lena’s eyeroll through her chest. “Women have been giving birth for millennia—on riverbeds, beaches, in caves…”

 

“Yeah, and I bet the infant mortality rate was fantastic.” Lena murmurs, quiet enough so only Kara can hear. She chides her with a playful nudge.

 

“None of them had access to the preventative care that all of you have, so the first thing I recommend is just: relax. You’re in good hands. But, on a more practical level, there’s one proven way to lower your chances of a tear during birth. Vaginal massage.” Kara’s face gets hot. Suddenly it feels weird to be touching Lena so much right now.

 

“This is a way to also connect with your body as you get closer to the culmination of your pregnancy journey, and it can be a powerful bonding experience with your partner. The vulva is far more sensitive during pregnancy, as I’m sure all of you have noticed.”

 

There’s a quiet ripple of knowing laughter. Lena is silent. The pregnant woman in the couple beside them reaches back to stroke her hand through the short hair at the nape of her wife’s neck and Kara’s skin prickles. The door in her thoughts flies open. Lena bucking against her face when she touched her tongue to her clit, Lena writhing on the bed, Lena moaning and the way Lena says “fuck” when she’s just had two orgasms. She slams it shut again and races back to reality.

 

Kara is laser-focused as the instructor explains the hows and whys of the massage, and then truly zones out for the rest of the class thinking about what she’s just learned. This is another way she can make Lena’s pregnancy better for her. This is another way she can make Lena feel less afraid. This is another way she can help.

 

“…and, the next time we’re at the DEO I’ll talk to Martha about her maybe performing one of those massages for me during our checkups.” Lena says in the car on the way home, flipping through pamphlets she picked up from the women’s center. Martha is the DEO’s on-call doctor, who’d been nominated by Alex to do all of Lena’s pelvic exams after they both deemed it too weird for Alex to do herself.

 

“No, I think I’ll just do it. If you’re cool with it.” Her voice is confident and even. But there’s no disguising the way she’s now driving a few miles over the speed limit.

 

“Oh, um.”

 

“I mean, I’ve already seen—uh, you. And if you were just going to get Martha to do it you’d only be able to have it done once a week. Lamaze lady—”

 

“Deborah.”

 

“Deborah said ten minutes per day. I don’t want you to be missing out.”

 

Lena’s quiet for a moment.

 

“I guess that makes sense. Maybe we can—”

 

“Great! We can start tonight. As soon as we get home, if you want.” It’s not really going to be ‘tonight’ when they get home, but the idea of sitting through the rest of the afternoon, dinner, and TV time with this plan turning over in her head sounds unspeakably difficult. They have to get started right away. It’s for Lena’s safety.

\---

“So, my place or yours?”

 

This is absurd. The thought feels futile now, eight months into a spit induced pregnancy and about to give birth to a baby that she’ll co-parent with her alien best friend. But she has to acknowledge it every once and a while just to ground herself in reality. Kara is standing in front of her in a truly ridiculous outfit—her sleep boxers, which have little Labrador silhouettes on them, and a big FBI T-shirt. Under one arm she’s holding her laptop. In her other hand is their olive oil bottle—a glass piece of art Lena picked up during a trip to Morocco with a control pour top. Lena suspects she’ll never see it the same way again.

 

The question, though seemingly innocuous, brings another element of the truly absurd situation to the forefront of Lena’s mind. Not only is she about to co-parent this baby with her best friend, said best friend had also fucked her into her own mattress and Lena is going insane with wanting it to happen again. There are so many different and complex layers to her attraction to Kara. Her kindness, intelligence, the light that she shines with. But in this moment the only dimension Lena can focus on is the one where she wants to be under that strong body throwing her back out.

 

“Let’s do yours.” Lena says with what she hopes is a casual smile. She can’t stop thinking about what happened in her bed when she’s in it on a normal night, forget about a night when Kara is going to massage olive oil onto her labia. A new environment should help smooth things along.

 

“Sounds good!” Kara chirps, as if they’re deciding on a movie to watch. She leads Lena down the hall and nudges open her bedroom door with a foot. “Do you wanna just lay up near the top, I guess?” She’s busying herself dropping the laptop on the bed, setting the olive oil down, and turning on the lights. It’s such a frenetic series of actions that Lena can’t keep track of her body as she does them all.

 

“Sure.” Lena fiddles with her sweatpants for a moment, then kneels on Kara’s bed and shuffles to the top and center. She moves up until there’s enough room for Kara to kneel between her legs, then props herself against the headboard and waits. Kara isn’t paying any attention to her—hasn’t looked at her since they came into the bedroom, in fact. She’s busy on the laptop, having set it up next to herself on the bed.

 

“I found some tutorial online.” She explains. “So we can do it by the book. Wanna get out of your shorts?”

 

Right. An important part of this is Lena being naked from the waist down. She has to steel herself for a moment before removing them and remind her body to keep everything in check. This isn’t about Kara’s budding sexuality crisis, Lena’s catastrophic horniness, or the mind blowing sex they’d had. It’s about Kara helping her with pregnancy body maintenance.

 

Feeling good about her dedication, Lena shimmies out of her shorts and tosses them off the bed. First step, check. No big deal. Kara seems to hear the shift and her eyes drift to where Lena’s legs are spread, knees bent and pantsless. They zero in to the center of her underwear and Lena registers her breath shallowing.

 

That’s when she realizes that it’s going to take more than a pep talk to prevent herself from enduring the shame of getting wet while Kara does this. She’s about to say something to ease them into it, a joke maybe, but Kara beats her to the punch in the worst way.

 

“I’ll just take off your underwear and we can get started.”

 

 _I have hands_ Lena thinks, but nods anyway. Her whole body clenches when, instead of just taking the panties off, Kara’s fingers skim up from the base of her to the band of the underwear. Her intense gaze on Lena’s cunt hasn’t let up since she removed her shorts. It only seems to grow deeper, more dark.

 

The underwear goes. The cool air that hits her is sobering and perfect. She averts her eyes to the ceiling, where she intends to keep them for the rest of this process. There’s rustling at the base of the bed where Kara prepares her materials and then, without warning, silence.

 

 _Don’t look._ Lena looks. Kara is seated between her legs, oil bottle in hand, just...staring. Open mouthed, big eyed, right between her legs. It’s a look Lena has only seen previously directed at things that Kara is about to devour. She can’t stop how she tightens at the thought.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Kara shakes her head. “Just getting my bearings. I’m ready to go if you…”

 

“I’m good. Can you just—start slow, I guess?”

 

Kara nods with a reassuring smile. She keeps the bottle in one hand and places the other on the top of Lena’s planted foot. “How about we start here?”

 

Lena sometimes wonders at how Kara can make being good to people seem so natural. It makes her heart full. Someday she hopes she’ll get to explore that wonder more. “Here is good.”

 

Kara’s hand squeezes and departs. The next place Lena feels it is in the back of her calf, as warm and sure as ever. “Next I’m going to touch your knee, okay?” Her voice is low and, Lena supposes, probably supposed to be soothing. It comes off tilting more toward sultry.

 

“Okay.” As soon as she says it, the touch appears. Kara’s palm is warm and dry. She scrapes her nails a little on the skin of Lena’s knee.

 

“Next your thigh.” Lena is belatedly realizing that what a bad idea this was. She sees the writing on the wall that says there’s no way for her to stop her inevitable reaction to Kara’s touch. She’s not even done anything with the oil yet and Lena is already wound tight as she’s ever been.

 

Kara’s hand lands on her thigh and squeezes. Lena’s legs tilt open more at the feeling. “And now your…”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Now or never, after all. Kara retracts her hand and Lena watches her drizzle a little oil in her palm. A drop falls onto her duvet and Kara swears. “Should’ve put a towel down...whatever, that’s fine.” She says to herself, gathering some oil on the tip of her index finger. Lena holds her breath.

 

The first touch against her entrance jolts her but once she grows used to it Lena thinks that maybe she blew the whole thing out of proportion. Kara is still looking at her pussy with that milk-drunk baby expression, but as long as she ignores that, she can coast.

 

Then, Kara moves her finger.

 

It’s just a gentle pressure at first, not quite going in, but it reminds Lena of what’s about to happen. She takes a deep breath and tries to relax into the touch, but is startled when Kara’s other index finger joins in the pressure.

 

She clenches her eyes shut. The touch becomes more. She realizes that Kara is applying it in tight little circles, massaging around the entrance instead of going all the way in. Lena can’t confess to having read that tutorial word for word, but she’s pretty sure that the actual thing is supposed to be more straightforward.

 

“Is that what it says to do on the tutorial?” She asks in a strained voice. Kara certainly isn’t looking at the computer, anyway.

 

“I’m ad-libbing a little. I don’t want it to be painful for you. That okay?”

 

“Mmhm!” Lena wonders what happened to by the book. Her thighs turn out to be the first part of her resolve to break. They start to quaver without her consent, but at least she thinks that Kara might not notice or if she does, might not think much of it. It’s just becoming so difficult to keep everything inside when it wants desperately to come pouring out.

 

They continue like that for an agonizing minute. Kara rubs the skin, each swipe of her fingers seeming to go closer and closer to the place Lena most desperately wants it. She does not think about Kara inside of her, about her center pressed so tightly to Kara’s shirt that it left a stain of her arousal.

 

Except she does. And when Kara’s fingers slip from extra moisture she flushes with the embarrassment of knowing exactly what’s happened. Instead of trembling, her thighs lock up. She expects Kara to stop, maybe make a joke about not needing olive oil after all, or just get up and leave. It would be within her rights—she’d been nice to Lena by agreeing to do this after everything, and now Lena’s body is betraying them both.

 

“I’m going to go inside, okay?” Lena’s head snaps up. Kara is still sitting on her knees, eyes fixed on her center, connected to her by two hands. She must feel her getting turned on, must see it too with all the intensity that’s on her face. Lena’s blood is all rushing downward and she knows if they keep doing what they’re doing it’s only going to her more and more apparent.

 

But Kara doesn’t seem perturbed. She looks interested, actually. And maybe if she doesn’t say anything, Lena won’t say anything either. Maybe it’s just better to ignore it and get the thing over with.

 

“Okay.” Lena knows she sounds like a 13-year-old boy whose voice is cracking from puberty. Having gotten the permission she came for, Kara inserts both of her fingers to the first knuckle and lets them rest there for a moment.

 

Lena has to bite her cheek to keep the moan inside. It’s bringing new definition to the phrase _too much but not enough_. Having known what it’s like to have three of Kara’s fingers working in her relentlessly it’s impossible not to compare the two situations. Her stomach tightens and there’s a fresh wave of pleasure between her legs. She wonders if that’s what Kara is thinking about too, if that’s why her eyes are blown so wide.

 

The actual process of the massage is simple. Kara stretches her fingers out, then down toward her perineum, then back again. The motion of it is hypnotizing and through it Lena has a barometer for how wet she’s getting. Kara’s fingers slip around easier and easier every time. Neither of them say anything of it. Lena remains staring at the ceiling, face flushed, counting the seconds as they go by in her head. The lack of stimulation on her clit is a blessing and a curse. Without it she feels pleasure that only skims her surface without bringing her anywhere near the edge, so she’s spared the embarrassment of getting too close to an orgasm.

 

“Hey Lena?” Kara’s fingers continue their work. To the side. Down. Back again. Lena hums. “What would you think about—if I—well there are other parts of your vagina that you want to protect right?”

 

Lena knits her brow. “I was hoping the whole thing would make it out intact.”

 

“So maybe I should, mm, pay attention to the rest of it too?”

 

Logically, it’s unsound. Medically, it likely has no foundation but Lena’s not about to call Alex and ask. Kara is down there, and she’s looking, and Lena has less blood flowing to her brain than normal, so she feels like she should trust in her opinion. Plus, the baby is an alien who’s probably going to be 10 times stronger than she is and she _really_ doesn’t want anything to tear.

 

“Okay.” She agrees in a poorly modulated voice. Kara removing her fingers is almost a relief. But nothing that’s happened before prepares her for four of Kara’s fingers moving up through her labia, collecting the embarrassing amount of slick there and spreading it over everything.

 

“How’s that?”

 

“Sure is a massage.” Kara is back to rubbing little circles everywhere—her labia, inside and outside, carefully avoiding Lena’s clit until she’s not anymore. Her thumb and index finger glide gently up and just like that, what previously was surface skimming is deep-diving.

 

Kara’s fingers are so slick that her touch over Lena’s clit is nearly devoid of friction, but the _pressure_ has her hurtling towards the point of no return. It’s too much, too intense, and she can barely hold back. Without warning her legs snap shut, trapping Kara around the wrist. Kara’s movements stop.

 

“Lena, are you okay?”

 

She scrunches her eyes shut tight, bites hard into her lip and nods. She can feel herself grasping at nothing, aching for the press of Kara’s fingers inside her.

 

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just,” A tremor runs through her legs and she whines at the force of it. “Close. Sorry.” It’s humiliating, actually, how close she is. Even with her heightened sex drive, the fact that Kara had brought her to this point without any sort of intent or focus makes her want the earth to swallow her up.

 

“Oh.” Kara says. It could just be her imagination, but it feels like Kara might be rubbing the pads of her fingers together, hovering a whisper away from her skin. Surely Kara had noticed, at some point, what this was doing to her—how swollen she must be, full, how wet.

 

“Yeah.” She sighs, opens her eyes to find that Kara’s staring at where her thighs have a twitchy hold around her arm. Not willing to watch the inevitable rejection to come, she closes them again. Now or never. “Kara, do you think you could—”

 

“Yes.”

 

Kara punctuates her sentence by sliding two fingers inside her, easy, and curling them forward. Lena whimpers and clutches her around the biceps. Relief and surprise fill her up and she barely holds herself back from coming.

 

“That’s what you wanted right? For me to help you again?” Lena’s nodding before Kara even finishes the question.

 

“Yeah.” Her voice is a mess—high, feminine, quavering. The sound of it to her own ears turns her on further. It makes her want to give herself over completely to Kara, to tell her in that voice just how far she’d let her go.

 

“Okay, good.” Kara adds another finger and she nearly chokes on air.

 

“God, yes, thank you thank you thank you.” Lena says in a rush as Kara hooks one of her legs around her hip, holding it there against the side of her body. Her grip is lusciously firm on the meat of her thigh. Part of Lena expects that Kara won’t waste any time. She doesn’t _need_ time, already hypersensitive and teetering right on the edge. And yet, the hot upwards drag of Kara’s fingers is _slow_ , but insistent enough to have pressure inside her building past what she thought would be its peak. It’s torture.

 

“Kara can you please go faster please.” She says breathlessly, mindlessly, and Kara huffs out a laugh. Gone is the wild, determined expression from their first encounter, replaced with something confident—close to relish, even, like she’s savoring it. There’s a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. The heat from her eyes burns like a brand.

 

“Not yet.”

 

“ _Please_.” She repeats the word in a litany. On reflex goes to rub at her clit, only to be intercepted by the awkward bulk of her baby bump and then by Kara, letting go of her thigh to link their fingers together briefly before guiding her hand back to rest on the bed beside her. She clutches at the comforter so hard she tears a hole in it. Enough.

 

“Kara.”

 

“Mhm?” Kara’s eyes are fixed to where she’s fucking into her, mesmerized.

 

“If you don’t let me come you’re going to kill me— _oh_.” Kara starts to laugh, but Lena sees her sober up when she notices the small puddle of liquid now held in her cradle of her palm. Kara looks from her hand, to Lena’s writhing body, to her hand again. Regardless of how maddening Kara’s pace is, the temperature of her gaze makes Lena want to show off, makes her want to spur Kara on.

 

“Kara,” She gropes at her own breasts through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, presses them together so the line of her cleavage intensifies, plays her fingers over her nipples and sighs. Kara’s face goes through a million expressions, passing through wonder to arrive at something stonier, something she can’t quite place. “Please?”

 

“Just wait.” There’s almost a smugness to her now, and if possible she’s moving slower than she was before. _She’s teasing me_ , Lena thinks with remarkable clarity for someone this close to orgasm, _and she’s enjoying it_. The realization frees something in her heart and frustrates the hell out of her at the same time.

 

“Look at me.” She says, and when Kara does it’s there in her eyes. Desire, open and fierce. A new rush of arousal hits her hard.

 

Mad with it, Lena reaches forward between them and cups Kara between her legs, firm and unyielding. It breaks her. Kara goes concave arching into Lena’s hand, fingers still working inside her but now off-rhythm. For a second it seems that she loses herself to the feeling, eyes rolling back a little, but when Lena starts to rub at her she snaps back to reality.

 

“Don’t…don’t do that. This is about you.” Kara surges forward so she’s on top of her, braced over her with one arm. Out of reach. “I’m helping you.”

 

“But you like it.” That moment of abandon she just saw emboldens her and she holds Kara’s gaze, close enough to share breath. Kara looks rabid now, not even close to her composure from before, panting hard with every thrust. Lena grabs a handful of her hair and brings her even closer. “You like fucking me.”

 

She wants to say _admit it_ , but Kara kisses her instead. It’s nothing like their first kiss, or any kiss they shared that other night—it’s rough, teeth and tongue, filled something volatile, unstable. It loses any illusion of finesse as Kara doubles her pace inside her and Lena starts moaning into her mouth, all previous defiance fucked out by the drive of Kara’s fingers in her cunt.

 

She clings hard to Kara’s back, mouths and bites at her neck, pulls her hair, anything to ease the impossible rise of tension in her body and elicit some reaction from Kara’s before all of this ends.

 

And end it does. Kara moves from where she had been licking and nipping at her breast through the fabric of her shirt to watch her face as she comes around her fingers, base encouragements like “that’s it” and “you feel so good” spoken in a rush while Lena loses all coherence.

 

“Oh, god. Fuck.” Is what she comes up with when her words return to her. She cradles Kara’s face in shaking hands and kisses her soundly, tears pricking at her eyes. It slips from fervor into something like tenderness, and that’s when Kara breaks away and continues moving inside her, harder now.

 

“Again.” She says, and Lena does, messy and quaking around her and against her, shouting with the unbearable force of it.

 

There’s quiet, then, save for the sound of both of their heavy breathing. Spent, she brings her hand to the side of Kara’s face, stroking her soft cheek, the heroic round of her chin. Eyes half-closed and without really thinking about it, she brushes over Kara’s kiss-swollen lips with the pad of her thumb. Soft, wet. She jolts back to awareness when she feels them part under the touch. Kara’s eyes are hooded and downcast, watching Lena’s hand.

 

There’s a risk in front of her.

 

She takes it.

 

Slowly, painfully slowly, she eases her thumb into Kara’s willing mouth, past the clean edge of her teeth, until she’s touching the very tip of her tongue. She withdraws until she’s resting against the fullness of Kara’s bottom lip. Holding her breath, she repeats the movement. When she repeats it again Kara’s eyes flutter shut. Again. In no time at all Kara’s working the heat of her mouth over Lena’s thumb, letting it slide fast against her tongue, bobbing her head and holding her wrist with both hands now, one of them wet. Lena throbs with every pass and Kara moans when Lena grips her by the hair, moans again when she uses it to force her up.

 

“Get on your back.”

 

Kara shakes her head, as if she were coming out of a trance. “What? No I…I’m fine I’m just gonna…” Sick regret flies through Lena as Kara puts distance between them, as if she’s going to leave.

 

“Kara, wait. Look at you.” Kara’s loose cotton boxers are soaked through and clinging to her. She can’t tear her eyes away, evidence of just what all of this meant. Kara follows her gaze and blushes vividly. “Please, let me.”

 

 “Lena…” She grabs Kara around the wrist before she can make it off the bed, kneels beside her, crowds her half naked body against her. Slowly, with all the care and hesitation of approaching a wild animal, she smooths her palm up Kara’s inner thigh. The muscles there jump under her hand and Kara inhales sharply. She slips her fingers just under the leg of Kara’s boxers and leaves them there, still.

 

When Kara doesn’t push her away—just sighs and tips her head back a little—she moves them higher under the fabric, and finds her so wet that the hairs at the cleft of her thigh are slicked down from it.

 

“Let me.” She says, leaning in close. “I want to.” The moment balances on a knife’s edge. Lena can practically feel the warring energies of flight and acquiescence in Kara’s body, passing into her own through all the places they’re connected—her hand on Kara’s thigh, her lips kissing down the soft hairs at the back of her neck, her other hand skimming up under Kara’s t-shirt to splay against her ribs. Her heart is pounding with the risk of it all—every action, every breath, every word is irrevocable from here on out. She could stop, apologize, let Kara leave the room and let this stand alone as a bad decision from both of them. But she can’t let herself, not when Kara is practically dripping wet and gasping for air. Her breaths intensify each time Lena brushes against her back, turning into quiet little moans, and a hundred memories of when she’s noticed Kara staring flip through Lena’s mind—looking at her in the dressing room, after yoga, over dinner, reading side by side at night, while she was fucking her.

 

“I’ve seen how you look at me. I know you like my body like this. Does it turn you on that you made me this way?” Kara doesn’t answer, just turns and looks at her with unbridled shock, eyes wide and mouth open as Lena withdraws her hands and takes off her own shirt. She watches Kara scan down her torso, at her full breasts, at the waxing moon of her belly, their child inside.

 

“It’s okay, Kara. Here,” She takes Kara’s hands in her own and places them on her breasts, squeezes. They’d passed the point of no return long ago. Time to lay everything on the line. “I love the way you look at me. You’ve gotten me wet just from looking at me like that. ” It feels good, in a sick way, to lay bare everything she's been hiding and denying regardless of the potentially devastating consequences. Good like pressing on a bruise.

 

She arches into Kara’s hands, grips her shoulders. Kara moans in response, lets her hands do the talking for a long, indulgent moment.

 

“I know. I-I’ve heard you.” Kara’s voice is tense, and she swallows hard. Lena can’t help but gasp at her admission, nearly dizzy with shame. Kara brushes her over Lena’s nipples as if to reassure her. “I’ve, um, I’ve listened to you. It was accidental at first, but then I, uh…” She avoids Lena’s eyes, drops her hands away to fidget in her lap. It hits Lena with shocking clarity.

 

“Did you touch yourself?”

 

Kara nods, still staring down at where their knees are almost touching. She sees herself taking Kara, she’s imagined as much. It would be easy from here to strip her, ease her down face-first onto the mattress, watch the muscles in her back flex as she fucked her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. As much as Lena (and Kara too, she figures) would like it like that, that’s not how it should be. Instead, Lena tilts her chin up, pulls her in for a kiss by the back of her neck. They move together hungrily, no hesitation from Kara now, only stopping for Lena to strip Kara’s t-shirt off, crushing it to her face briefly to inhale the warm scent of her before diving into the kiss again. More than anything she wants to press herself against the hard muscles and gentle curves of Kara’s body, feel the line of her flush against her skin.The hindrance of such closeness is between them and eight months in the making. Instead, she slots their thighs together—both of Kara’s on either side of one of hers, knee pressed against Kara’s center.

 

“I was thinking about you, Kara. I was thinking about this.” Lena kisses her, sweet and then not so sweet. “And this.” She lowers her head to sucks one of Kara’s nipples into her mouth, releases it. “And th-this, fuck.” She shifts her hips forward and grinds down with intent on Kara’s thigh. “And this.” Finally, she slips her hand into Kara’s boxers, stealing her fingers through the wet heat she finds there. Kara bucks forward, so hard that it nearly throws Lena off balance.

 

“S-sorry it’s hard to…control myself. When you’re t-touching me, _ah_.”

 

“It’s okay.” She strokes Kara’s hair while her other hand works between her thighs, soothing. “You don’t have to hold back with me, remember? Do what you want to do.”

 

Kara nods, looks at her with naked awe and affection shining in her hooded eyes. “Can you put your fingers inside me, please?”

 

There’s a shyness to Kara’s question tempered by how fucked-out she sounds already. If Lena was dizzy from lack of blood flow to her brain before, it doesn’t even compare to now, after hearing Kara say those words. She tries one finger at first, slips in a second when she finds her open and ready and Kara pulls her into a kiss, separating them to moan and rock her hips in counterpoint to Lena’s slow movements.

 

“Is that okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Does it feel good?”

 

She thumbs over her clit and Kara keens high in her throat. “Yeah, it f-feels good. It feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

 

Lena laughs into the side of Kara’s neck. With two fingers inside the woman who just might be the love of her life, the idea of stopping might be the most ridiculous thing she’s ever thought about. It would take something utterly cataclysmic. She’s pretty sure she’d keep going even if Lillian and her cavalry walked through their door. “I’m not going to stop, I promise. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

 

Kara rests her forehead against Lena’s, breathing hard. “You have?” There’s an insistent tugging at Lena’s heart, that thread between them drawn taut and looped around it. She finds herself blinking back tears.

 

“I have. Even before the baby. Always.”

 

“Oh, Rao.” She kisses Lena again, feverish. “I have too, I didn’t even know how bad but now it’s all I think about, I didn’t know that you—” She shudders and arches forward, tightening around Lena’s fingers. “Fuck, Lena.”

 

If Lena had woken up that morning and thought about the chances of her holding Kara Danvers in her arms as she came, she would’ve reached the conclusion that they were astronomically slim. So slim, in fact, she hadn’t considered them at all. But somehow here she is, bearing witness to and causing Kara’s urgent thrusts against her body as she got closer and closer. It’s frenzied—Kara’s hands moving from Lena’s back to her breasts to cup her face and draw her in for a kiss, soon interrupted by Lena breaking away to bite Kara’s earlobe and purr encouragements and demands into her ear guaranteed to make both of them blush when they were remembered later.

 

“You should— _ah, Lena_ —you should take your fingers out, I could hurt you, I could—”

 

“You can’t, Kara.” She starts to speed up the movement of her fingers inside her, drops her other hand between them to rub over Kara’s clit. Kara grabs at her shoulders, her hair, moaning like it’s breaking her. “You can’t hurt me, just let go. Come for me.”

 

“Okay, okay, fuck, okay.” A few more thrusts and then it’s the only time she’s seen Kara truly still, the moment when her orgasm peaks and she’s braced frozen against her, eyes screwed shut and mouth open, for a few seconds that drag out like a lifetime. Then she’s coming down, shivering, reaching down to pull Lena’s hand to her mouth to lick and suck before kissing the taste of her onto Lena’s tongue.

 

The kisses grow slower, shorter, until Lena rests her forehead against Kara’s again, and there’s quiet. She can distantly sense that the moment will have to end at some point, that she can’t be preserved like this forever unless there’s some sort of disaster of Pompeii proportions waiting to befall National City. It’s Kara who interrupts it.

 

“Lena, I know we have to talk about this.” Despite Kara’s previous admissions, dread drops into the pit of Lena’s stomach like a stone at the serious tone in her voice. “But for now, can we nap for a little while?”

 

“Of course we can nap, come here.” She lies back against the pillows, where she was before all of this took such a dramatic turn. When she holds out her arms Kara crawls into them without hesitation, curling against her side with a hand on her belly, kissing her shoulder and looking up at her with sleepy blue eyes.

 

“Thank you.” Kara says in a voice barely above a whisper. Tears prick at Lena’s eyes again, and, knowing that she might wake up to an empty bed, she slants her mouth over Kara’s and pours the unbearable mix of emotions roiling inside her into the kiss. _Love me_ , she thinks, _love me, love me, love me like I love you._

\---

Kara wakes up to the feeling of something tickling against her wrist. She’s in her bedroom, the details register quickly—there’s her clothes, her stack of orange shoeboxes with her favorite flyknits sitting on top of them, her messenger bag by the door. What takes longer for her to realize is the fact that Lena is cradled to her front, Kara’s arm laying across her breasts, and it’s the dark tresses of Lena’s hair being ruffled against it by the warm breeze through the open window that’s tickling her. Oh, and they’re both naked. Kara flushes at the recent memories that spring into her mind, drinking in the sight of Lena’s body fitting against hers. She remembers what Lena had said in the kitchen the morning after they first had sex. _I feel different_.

 

She felt different after the few times she slept with boys, too. There was an embarrassment, usually, a sort of shame that was hard to ignore, and a keen desire to be alone in her apartment again. Then at some point during the day, seemingly out of nowhere, she’d start to cry. It crept up on her while she was watching TV, or doing the dishes, or showering. It would surprise her at first but then she’d be sobbing in earnest, just for a little while, and afterwards she’d feel washed out and shaky but cleaner, somehow.

 

It’s dark outside. Kara looks over Lena’s shoulder at her alarm clock and sees 9:23 blinking back at her. In the distance, just outside the city limits, she hears a storm break. The end of the heat wave. She’s not embarrassed, she searches for it in her mind but there’s not a trace of it to be found. She’s calm. And she just wants Lena to wake up.

 

“Lena.” She says softly, brushing Lena’s hair over her ear and exposing her neck, kissing it.

 

Lena says “Hmm?” and turns to Kara with her eyes still closed. She looks utterly kissable with mussed hair and still-swollen lips, and for a second Kara aches with it before she remembers she _can_ kiss her now, and leans in.

 

“I’m gonna have a shower.” She says against Lena’s mouth. “Do you want some water?”

 

“Yeah.” Lena opens her eyes and smiles, full and bright. “I’d love some water, thank you.” Lena pulls her back in and kisses her again, deeper this time, and Kara feels it all the way down to her toes. All of a sudden she’s wet again, just from a kiss and mere hours after Lena had given her the best orgasm of her life. She thinks that maybe Lena can tell that she’s wet just by looking at her, something knowing and excited sparkling in her eyes when they part. Before tonight, what she now knows as her desire for Lena and their future together couldn’t have been further removed in Kara’s mind. She thought that the former would degrade the latter, topple it, ruin everything. But then Lena touched her, touched the inside of her and said _Let me_ , showed her that she felt it too. Like flipping a switch. Everything clicking into place.

 

Not bothering with clothes, she reluctantly leaves Lena and her frankly awe-inspiring mouth and goes to the kitchen. She’d missed this from her old apartment. After a long day, her powers on high alert, wearing clothes overwhelmed her already acute senses and she usually went without at night. She didn’t mind the trade-off between walking around the house naked and all the things she loves about living with Lena, but now she gets to do both. She resists the urge to literally float back to her room.

 

When Lena’s taking her turn in the shower (and after another few dozen stolen kisses), Kara fixes them both a sandwich for late dinner. She’s pouring juice when she hears Lena’s quiet steps behind her.

 

“Are you as starving as I am?” Lena asks, and the tips of Kara’s ears grow hot at the sight of her—fresh-faced, barefoot, wearing the black slip dress from that night so long ago where she’d crawled into Kara’s lap. Lena smiles, slow and crooked, and gets as close to Kara as she can with her belly in the way. Instead of kissing her like Kara expects, she pushes gently against the bottom of Kara’s chin with her index finger to shut her mouth.

 

“You can take a picture, you know, it’ll last longer.” She kisses her cheek and picks up both their plates. “C’mon. Let’s eat on the deck.”

 

It’s hot outside, the humidity cut occasionally by the breeze that’ll bring that storm in later. The heat’s intoxicating, she feels drunk from it lying back in her chair, loose-limbed and sleepy, more satisfied than she’s ever been and sensing more satisfaction to come with every stroke of Lena’s fingers over the veins in her forearm.

 

Their yard had really came up nice. One detail was missing, but according to the USPS tracking site it was arriving in a couple of days. She hasn’t decided which corner of the yard would work best for a swing set, but she can see the three of them using it as clear as day. She had a lot of these daydreams about the baby—first day of school, teaching her how to swim, speaking Kryptonian at the dinner table. She’d imagined these things before Lena got pregnant, but she was always alone in them, a single parent, maybe with Alex there to help. Any man she conjured up to be by her side was blurry around the edges, faceless, non-specific. But with Lena it’s like looking into a crystal ball, milestones stretched out in front of them with Lena a permanent fixture in every single one.

 

She idly tracks a firefly making its buzzing way across their yard, landing on lattice she’d fixed to the fence. The garden bed below it is turned and ready for strawberries. The bug takes off and flies over the fence, losing some of its luminosity in the bright lights of their neighbors’ pool.

 

“We should go swimming.”

 

“Hm? Sure. Let’s go buy me a suit that fits tomorrow.”

 

“No, I mean right now.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Over there.” Kara points at where ripples of light from the pool are being cast against the trees that overlook it.

 

“That’s not our pool, Kara.” Lena raises a dangerous eyebrow at her, and Kara gets the sense that she doesn’t care much at all that it’s not theirs. Besides, it’s really their ex-neighbors’ pool. The house is for sale, not a soul inside. She’ll call and offer to make sure it’s leaf-less before the next open house to make up for it.

 

“So? There’s no one home, all that water’s going to waste. And electricity. It’s our duty, really, as responsible citizens who care for the environment.” Kara holds the superhero shtick until Lena cracks up, her scrunchy-faced laugh infectious and keenly charming.

 

“Fair point, Supergirl. And how exactly am I going to get over that fence?

 

“Like this.” She stands and holds her arms out to Lena. Lena looks up at her, lips quirked up in a smile Kara places somewhere between skepticism and mischief. She struggles out of the chair and lets herself be lifted, her arm around Kara’s shoulders and Kara’s arm hooked under her knees.

 

She’s reminded of how Lena felt in her arms when she snatched her out of the sky off her balcony at L-Corp. Lena had been shaking then, terrified, massively different to the calm weight in Kara’s arms now. Fear in her face rather than tenderness. The way Kara felt then—full to the brim with adrenaline despite the easy fight, heart thumping with sick fear, palm tingling from where it had rested against soft back of Lena’s thigh—it all makes sense now. She’d been standing in a field with a storm above her all this time and only now has the lightning struck.

 

She floats them over the fence, Lena laughing and grabbing close to her as they lift off. When they alight she kisses her before letting go. The water laps quietly against the terracotta tiles at the edge of the pool. The chlorine mingles with the humid air, reminds Kara of spending hours with Alex doing flips off the high-dive at Midvale Public Pool during her childhood summers.

 

“Ooh, it’s cold.” Lena says when she dips her foot in, stands on the first step on the far side of the pool.

 

“Too cold?”

 

“No, it’s nice.” Kara swallows hard when Lena crosses her arms and pulls her dress off, leaving her in a bralette and dark red panties. She wades in until the water’s up to her navel. “Are you gonna come in or not?”

 

“Right, yeah, um.” Kara strips down to a sports bra and boxer briefs, grins at the way Lena openly scans down her body before backing up to get a running start on her jump.

 

“No no no wait!” Lena holds her hands up protectively, waiting for the splash, and Kara stifles a laugh. Lena lowers her hands and looks at her stormy faced as Kara controls her landing so she slips into the water slowly, barely disturbing the surface of the water.

 

 “Show off.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Lena splashes her as she swims past. Her bralette looks like it’s getting a bit tight around her back. She should pick her up some more next time she’s near the Target. But for now it makes sense for Lena to be comfortable, so she asks her (without thinking):

 

“Are you gonna take that off?”

 

“What, this?” Lena holds the strap of her bralette between her thumb and index finger, kinda pulls it off and on her shoulder a few times. It’s hypnotic. “Do you _want_ me to take it off?”

 

“Yeah, um.” Her voice is shaky, so she tries again. “Yeah.”

 

Lena smiles crookedly at her, biting her lip, eyes like cold fire even clearer and brighter with the blue filtered light from the water reflecting up into them. She takes it off and wades over to Kara, holding her gaze.

 

“You’re really obsessed with these, aren’t you?”

 

“Maybe a little bit, sorry.” She gives up on keeping her eyes on Lena’s face and looks up into the sky instead. She’s not used to this, not used to letting herself want and be wanted. Her attraction to Lena puzzled her at first, then terrified her. Letting it stretch in the open, acting on it, makes her feel like she’s free-falling. She’s grateful when Lena laughs and interlinks their fingers. A soft landing.

 

“It’s okay, Kara. I like it.” She guides Kara’s hands into a firm hold on her breasts, arches into the touch as much as she can with her bump in the way. “For what it’s worth, I’m obsessed with these.” She traces Kara’s shoulders, her upper arms, lightly at first but then squeezing over the bicep. Kara blushes and flares with heat at the attention, flexing into Lena’s grip and watching as she bites her lip, watching as she closes her eyes when Kara thumbs over her nipples.

 

Lena groans playfully and swims backwards, away from Kara’s hands, shaking her head. “We shouldn’t do this here. We’re already trespassing.”

 

“You’re right. We should go home.” Kara swims towards her and Lena evades her, laughing. That laughter, young and bright. How had she gone so long without hearing it every day?

 

“Easy, tiger. I want to float a bit first.”

 

She rolls in the water so the curve of her belly sticks out like an island. Their baby swimming inside while they swim. It must feel nice to be weightless within weightlessness, could even be the closest humans get to flying. Kara swims to her and smooths her hand over the soft, rounded skin of Lena’s stomach, touching the fingers of her other hand to Lena’s lower back, just light enough to keeping her balanced, grounded.

 

Lena stretches her arms out, moving them through the water as if she were making a snow angel. Something in Kara feels like it’s building, working itself up and coming to life, like a bird just starting to stretch its wings. She’s felt it for the past few months, figured it was the sexual tension once she’d become aware of it. But it kept building after that particular dam broke, expanding, and she feels it acutely now, watching Lena float—eyes closed, lips parted, impossibly dark hair floating loose around her calm face. It fills her until she feels like she might burst into tears, or laugh, or fly up, up, up until the air gets thin and she can see the horizon as a curve rather than a straight edge. She doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, it comes out like this:

 

“I love you.”

 

Lena opens her eyes and moves quickly out of her pose to stand in front of Kara, unsettling the water around her. “What did you just say?”

 

“I said that I love you. I’m in love with you.” She doesn’t think before she says it, doesn’t need to. Not autopilot, exactly. More like letting herself exhale long after she started holding her breath. “I’m sorry if that’s too soon, or if it’s too much, I just, it’s—”

 

Lena presses her finger to Kara’s lips. Her face is dotted with drops of water but Kara notices a tear fall from her wet lashes anyway, reaches out to brush it away with her thumb.

 

“It’s not. It’s not any of that. I love you too, Kara. I love you.”

 

They say it more times than either of them can count that night, alive and giddy with the newness of it—in the shower, with Kara smoothing conditioner through Lena’s hair, at the sink around mouthfuls of toothpaste, exaltingly with Kara’s head between Lena’s thighs, and then softly, in the dark.

 

Lena falls asleep first, lulled by the rain that eventually sweeps over to their side of town. Kara can’t sleep at first, watches Lena and actively fights the urge to kiss her for the millionth time that day. There’s a quiet, barely contained excitement in her, one that makes her want to stay awake and fall asleep as quickly as she can at the same time. It’s like Christmas Eve.

 

Lena shifts in her sleep, rolling on to her back and drowsily drawing Kara’s thigh across her own. The rain stops eventually and the quiet does nothing to help her sleep. Without meaning to, she tunes into Lena’s heartbeat. Steady and even, with something quicker humming behind it. Listening deeper, tears spring to her eyes. The baby’s heartbeat sounds different like this than it does on the sonogram, clearer, as if she had her ear pressed against his chest. It takes her breath away.

 

She sits up and folds so her lips are brushing against where the sheet covers Lena’s belly, close enough to feel warmth through the fabric, the beating of a tiny heart still filling her ears.

 

“Thank you, little guy.”

\---

The next few weeks pass in a blissful blur for Kara. As their future new arrival grows from Pina Colada (Lena came up with that one) to Babyloupe to Honeydew Baby, Lena spends most of her time at home, working less and staying out of the summer heat. Kara revels in this, quite content to fill her days talking to the baby, preparing Lena increasingly elaborate mocktails, and, her favorite, having more sex than she’s ever had in her whole life. Once again she’s grateful for their very much detached house in the hills, because Lena gets _loud_ and her old landlord would’ve evicted her by now given how often she makes her reach peak volume.

 

She’s cooled it on the DIY front, her previous flurry of activity giving her a lot of free time now that the nursery is completely set up. They’ve made a few friends in the Lamaze class and caught up to speed with all the intricate gossip that it entailed, i.e., Jody and Jen F used to be together, but when Jenny A and Theresa broke up Jenny F had an affair with Theresa, and Jen A and Jody got together, and now they’re all taking the same Lamaze program and getting soy chai lattes with Kara and Lena after class. It hurts Kara’s brain to think about it sometimes.

 

This new vacation vibe gives her a lot of time to think, actually. She thinks mostly about the baby, and Lena, and things like daycare waiting lists and middle names and raising a bilingual child, but she finds herself thinking about other things, too.

 

“I think I’m gay.” Kara says one night. Lena turns around as much as she can, with some difficulty in this position, holding on to the back of the couch so hard her knuckles are white.

 

“That’s, _mm_ , that’s great Kara but do you think—do you think we could— _fuck_ —talk about this later?”

 

“Oh, yeah, totally. Sorry. Later.”

 

“And can you keep fucking me now?”

 

“Right, sorry.”

 

Three orgasms later Lena’s lying back on the couch, chewing on a piece of red licorice as if it were a post-coital cigarette.

 

“You know, I thought you were a lesbian when I first met you.”

 

Kara sits up fast from where she had been sprawled out, exhausted, on the other couch. “You did?”

 

“Yeah.” Lena gives her a shrug that says “of course?”.

 

“Why?”

 

“Lots of things, to be honest. The clothes you wore, for one.”

 

“But I was wearing a dress when we first met.”

 

“True, but do you remember what you were wearing the second time?”

 

Kara casts her mind back a little, remembers her olive-green chinos, her grey sweater, her best white shirt. She was nervous that day so she picked the outfit she felt best in, the one that made her stand a little taller. In the morning she’d watched herself dress in the mirror, her confidence building with every button she fastened.

 

“I see what you mean. What else?”

 

“Your posture, I guess.”

 

“My _posture_?”

 

“Yeah, you sort of…take up space. Like you’re very relaxed in your body, even if you’re nervous.” Lena starts to smile at her, lips tinted and glistening from the licorice. “It’s sexy.”

 

“Oh it’s sexy is it?” Kara gets up and makes her way around the coffee table, closer to Lena who laughs at her exaggerated swagger. She reaches for Kara’s hands and uses them as leverage to move so she’s sitting upright.

 

“Yeah. And the way you looked at me, sometimes. The way you blushed when I smiled at you, or looked at you a certain way.” She gazes up at Kara through her lashes, and as if on cue Kara feels her face getting hot, intensifying when Lena presses a kiss to the front of her thigh. “The way you made me feel.”

 

“And h-how did I make you feel?”

 

“Like maybe you wanted me.” A kiss to her inner thigh, then, chaste at first but followed by the slow drag of Lena’s tongue.

 

“And has—oh, _Rao_ —has your gaydar ever been wr-wrong?”

 

Lena shakes her head, her mouth otherwise occupied.

 

She isn’t used to this, not even close. There’s no way she could get used to it really, and no way she’d want to. There’s an overwhelming contrast that’s part of what makes this so unbearably good—tender and rough, gentle and devastating at the same time. It’s Lena’s softness against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs—the silk of her hair and her smooth face—compared with the relentless pace of her tongue and the intensity of the feeling it provokes. It almost feels cruel how easy it is, like it’s shattering her, taking her apart. Sometimes she feels like her heart is breaking from the decadence of Lena’s mouth on her like this, especially when she makes herself open her eyes and sees the way the hard line of her jaw is moving, looks into Lena’s upturned eyes that sparkle with the knowledge of exactly what she’s doing to her.

 

“I love you…I love you…” choked out between heavy, whining breaths is the only thing that feels right to say.

 

Lena’s grasps her firmly around her hips, keeping her grounded as she begins to buck forward against her face. The fluttery build of her orgasm starts and her hands clench in Lena’s hair on reflex, sliding them through and down to grab a fistful at the nape of her neck when Lena hums against her with the thrill of it. She tugs, hard, and Lena breaks contact just for a moment to moan, low and dirty, before diving back in to work her mouth on Kara’s clit with something like ruthlessness, stealing her breath and tipping her over the edge.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Mhm.” She’s slumped over Lena, hands on her shoulders, waiting for her knees to feel solid again. Lena starts to press sticky kisses to her stomach. She hits a sensitive spot and Kara giggles and twists away.

 

“Tickles.”

 

“Let’s go to bed. C’mon.”

 

Kara offers no resistance.

\---

As she comes home from work one day, ready to curl up on the couch with Lena and watch another few episodes of _The L Word_ (they’ve polished off _The Killing_ by now and _The Good Place_ is on break) she gets a text.

                       

Lena: Took a car into L-Corp to sign some last-minute contracts. I’ll be home by 7 with Chinese food. Xx

 

Kara frowns. Their due date was only a couple of days away, Lena being so far from home without her gives her a pang of worry. Still, Lena’s only going to be 40 minutes or so, and she’s bringing food, so she tells herself to chill out and texts back.

 

Kara: ok!! text me when you’re on ur way home :) xxxx

 

Kara tries to busy herself—re-fluffing the couch cushions, wiping down the kitchen counters, tidying the books on their coffee-table. It works until she finds herself at the sink having washed the same dish three times while staring at her phone resting on the window sill.

 

At 6:47 with no text from Lena announcing that she’s on her way home, Kara goes into full panic. Lena hasn’t replied to any of her nineteen texts, so she calls her. And calls her. And calls her. When she hears it ring out a third time she breaks into a cold sweat. At 6:51 she changes into her suit and takes to the skies from their backyard.

 

Halfway to L-Corp, her phone rings.

 

“Lena, thank god, I was so worried wh—”

 

“Miss Danvers, this is Jessica Huang.”

 

“Jess? Where’s Lena is she okay what’s going on—”

 

“Miss Luthor is in labor.”

 

“She’s _what_?” A small crack reverberates in Kara’s ear and she feels a piece of glass from her screen slide around under her thumb.

 

“She was giving a presentation to the board and—”

 

“WHAT?”

 

“Wait, I think I see you…” Making a broad arc around the National City Bank building Kara spies Jess opening the door to the balcony. So that horse has bolted. Figures.

 

“Jess can you call my sister and tell her to get to L-Corp right now?”

 

“Of course, Miss Danvers.”

 

“Thank you.” She says to Jess as she alights on the balcony, looking past her at where Lena is braced against her desk—blouse untucked and hair half-falling out from her up-do.

 

“Kara, don’t—”

 

“You were giving a presentation to the _board_?”

 

“Yes,” she says, panting, eyes ablaze with danger so acute that Kara snaps her mouth shut and stops in her tracks. “I was giving a _crucial_ presentation to the board of directors of _my company_ that will be personally funding the future of _your baby_ , do you have a problem with th— _Jesus fucking Christ_.”

 

Her superhearing picks up tires screeching and a car mounting the curb in the street below.

 

“Alex is here. C’mon, I’ll carry you down to the garage.”

 

Looking pained, Lena shakes her head.

 

“I think she’s crowning.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“She’s crowning, Miss Danvers.” Jess says from the doorway, looking green. “Miss Luthor asked me to check before you arrived.”

 

“I’m so sorry Jess.” Lena says in a desperate voice. “Do you want a raise? Therapy? I’ll pay for all of your therapy if you need it. And we can name the baby after you, can’t we Kara?”

 

“Of course, yes, of course we can.” She scoops Lena into her arms anyway and deposits her on the (pristine, white) couch. She here’s the beep of an incoming call on her comms unit and clicks it on.

 

“Alex?”

 

“What the fuck is going on where are you guys?”

 

“The baby’s crowning already.” Kara folds up the hem of Lena’s skirt and _yep_ , she’s crowning alright. “We’re not gonna make it.”

 

“Fuck, shit, okay I’ll come to you.” About a minute of breathing and swearing and trying to soothe Lena in vain passes before she hears Alex in her ear again. “The elevator’s stuck.”

 

“What? Okay, wait a second. Lena I’ll be right back.”

 

“You’re _leaving me??_ ”

 

“Just for a second!”

 

She’s past a shell-shocked Jess and halfway to the elevator, intent on opening the doors and hauling up the car by the wires herself, when she hears Lena wail her name. So much for that plan. She turns on her heel and superspeeds back into the room.

 

“I think I need to push.”

 

Kara’s heartrate ratchets up. “You need to push? Okay, yeah, okay I’ve got this we can do this uhh, um.” She does a full circuit of the room, at a loss, and inexplicably finds herself holding a lamp.

 

“Kara just _get. Over. Here._ ”

 

“Right, okay.” She puts down the lamp and kneels in front of Lena again. “Alex, she says she needs to push. What do I do?”

 

“Is she doing her breathing?”

 

“Lena, Alex says you have to breathe.”

 

“No shit I have to breathe!”

 

“—tell her to breathe until the next contraction, then tell her to start pushing. And all you have to do is catch the baby.”

 

Lena’s eyes are wild and unfocused, her head lolled back, chest rising and falling with each pained breath.

 

“Lena, look at me.” With great effort she does, agony written all over her flushed face. “On your next contraction, you can start pushing. Okay?” Lena nods her head, fear flashing in her eyes. “You can do this Lena. I love you. We’re gonna do it together, okay?”

 

“Okay, I love you t- _fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck._ ”

 

“Push, Lena, it’s time.”

 

On the first push, the head of Kara Danvers’ first child slides out into her waiting palms. The baby doesn’t cry, blue eyes gazing around the room with something like curiosity.

 

“Oh my god Lena, the head’s out. She has hair! Black hair!” Incredulous laughter bubbles out of her, and Lena starts to laugh too before she groans again, a sound lower and more primal than Kara has ever heard.

 

“You ready to go again?”

 

Lena nods at her, eyes wide, breathing hard through flared nostrils.

 

“You’ve got this. You’re halfway there. Push, now.”

 

Like magic, her _son_ slides out into her hands, pink and crying and covered in stuff—way more stuff than any of the babies Kara’s seen on TV.

 

“Kara? Kara is everything okay? I’m still stuck in this fucking—” A clang, through her earpiece. “Elevator. Is the baby okay?

 

“Yeah, I think he’s okay.” Alex, and everything else, seems a million miles away. All she can do is stare at the little person wriggling and kicking and perfect in her arms.

 

“What about Lena? How’s Lena doing?”

 

Kara snaps her head up to see Lena slumped over, her breathing even louder than before but slower now. A wave of panic washes through her at the sight of blood smeared on her inner thighs.

 

“Lena?”

 

“I’m good, I’m good.” She says in a hoarse voice, waving her off. “Just look after her.”

 

“Him.” Either Lena doesn’t hear her or she’s deigning not to acknowledge that particular piece of information.

 

“Alex, what do I do now?”

 

“You’re gonna want to find something to tie off the umbilical cord, you can’t cut it yet. Oh thank _god_.” The elevator whirrs to life and she hears Alex sigh and re-holster her gun.

 

Kara looks around, finding nothing suitable in her immediate reach.

 

“Lena, here, hold him I need to find something to—” As soon as the baby touches the bare skin of Lena’s chest, her entire demeanor changes. She sits up straighter, readjusting her arms so he’s cradled securely against her, and looks over at Kara with clear eyes. The baby goes from ear-splitting cries to quiet mewling to peaceful silence.

 

“I’ve got him.”

 

“Yeah, you do.”

 

Tearing her eyes away from what could possibly be the most awe-inspiring thing she’s ever seen, Kara notices a pair of headphones on Lena’s desk and snatches them up quickly. When Alex arrives the umbilical cord is taken care of, and she helps Lena deliver the placenta with a soothing competence that all of them are grateful for while Jess is on the phone with the elevator company.

 

“Here you go, Agent Danvers, Miss Danvers.” Jess says when she returns to the room, handing tissues to a tearful Alex and then to Kara. She’s confused at first before she becomes aware that she’s steadily crying, sobbing even, without having realized that she even started to in the first place.

 

She carries Lena, who carries their son, down to Alex’s car. They stop to wrap him in Kara’s cape in lieu of a baby seat. Alex drives with a carefulness that Kara has never seen before, and Lena rests her head against Kara’s shoulder, totally exhausted.

 

Before too long Lena’s bundled up under a weighted blanket in the DEO hospital, hooked up to a drip to help her recover. Kara gives the doctors room to check Lena and the baby over, but when they leave she re-swaddles him in her cape and carefully, ever so carefully settles him into Lena’s arms. She lies down on the bed beside them above the covers and relaxes for the first time in hours. They’re all safe, and the baby’s _here_ , dozing in Lena’s arms and looking even more perfect now that he’s not covered in goo.

 

“He looks just like you.” Lena says, tracing the curve of his nose reverently. “Aside from the hair, of course.”

 

Kara chuckles, following the path of Lena’s finger with her own and then stroking through his impossibly soft hair. She can see the resemblance, to her and to Lena, but there’s something else, something she can’t quite place, until it hits her.

 

“He looks just like Kal did, actually.” Her voice shakes, just a little. “Before.”

 

Lena presses a kiss to her temple, and another three to her cheek, and Kara faces her so their foreheads are resting together. The baby shifts in his sleep and the attention returns to him.

 

“What do you think of Riordan?” Lena says, rocking him like a natural.

 

Kara mentally scans through the page on her phone’s notes that held their shortlist of names. “’Royal poet’?”

 

“He is royalty, after all. And poetry is a kind of remembrance.” Lena turns to her. “Krypton was already going to be remembered forever because of you, but he’ll carry on that legacy too.”

 

“I love it,” Kara says, her throat tight from holding back tears. “And I love you.” She kisses Lena softly and brings her arm around her shoulders, cradling her and Riordan close to her. Her whole world, held in her arms, just like that.

 

“And are we still set on Alexander, for the middle name?”

 

“Yep, I am if you are.” For both siblings, they decided.

 

Kara looks to the baby, sleeping serenely on. “How about you, little guy? Riordan Alexander Luthor-Danvers…it sure is a mouthful but I think it suits you.”

 

“No, Kara.” She looks at Lena, confused, and Lena looks back at her with a small smile on her face. “Riordan Alexander Zor-El.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual we can be found at @weirddyke and @seabiscuits-us :*

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to known demon hayley for helping inspire this fic/monstrosity
> 
> if you want to dig down deeper into our collective psyches, go [here](http://weirddyke.tumblr.com/post/168702519375/the-lesbian-hivemind-has-been-busy-me-and)
> 
> come scream at us @seabiscuits-us @Weirddyke


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